


Undiscovered Frontier: Origins -- Episode 1: "Matters of Honour"

by stgjr, Turandokht, Voyager989



Series: UF Origins [2]
Category: Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms, Battlestar Galactica (2003), Multi-Fandom, Star Trek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-01 11:12:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stgjr/pseuds/stgjr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turandokht/pseuds/Turandokht, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voyager989/pseuds/Voyager989
Summary: Follow the adventures of the crew of the ASV Huáscar in the first spinoff of stgjr's Undiscovered Frontier super-crossover





	1. Schedule and Dramatis Personae

**Author's Note:**

> And here begins the tie-in series to Steve's Undiscovered Frontier.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the introduction well in hand, the posting schedule and Dramatis Personae for the series.

**Posting Schedule and Teaser:  
  
Episode 1 -- "Matters of Honour" -- **12 Oct '18  
The Crew of the  _Huáscar_ is assembled and promptly put into an uncomfortable position as loyalties and ideologies are tested against the unsolvable knot of the Telepath Question in E5B1; Commander Saumarez is put to the test on the question of Psi-Corps versus the political objectives of the Alliance Government, as the Telepath Resistance presents itself with a stunning terrorist attack on Mars.  
  
 **Episode 2 -- "God Bless the Ottoman Empire" --** 3 Nov '18  
In the wake of the fall of the savage and horrifying Nazi Reich, former Nazi subject races are locked in bitter ethnic struggles as the terrible legacy of Nazi divide-and-conquer rule. On the world of Drachenfeldt the liberated peoples engage in ruthless reprisals against the German minority while arming to fight against each other for control of the world. Into the toxic mix, the  _Huáscar_ holds the high ground in a peacekeeping mission bedeviled by genocidal radicals eager for ethnic cleansing, threatening to go hot at any moment!  
  
 **Episode 3 -- "Case Armageddon"** \-- 17 Nov '18  
During explorations of a newly discovered universe, Commander Abebech Imra makes a single impulsive decision over an Earth with an utterly unique history which alters its fate and course forever. In a heartbeat, the  _Huáscar_ is plunged into the heart of Case Armageddon: The objective, to stop the killing in a state of savage total war!  
  
 **Episode 4 -- "The Border Patrol" --** 1 Dec '18  
Deployed on a routine mission to serve as the Guardship for an Alliance member world in the notorious Triangle region of S5T3, Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu finds out that his cousin, the Pretender to the vacant throne of the Romulan Star Empire, is being threatened by the Tal Shiar on a remote world in the Triangle. He requests permission to launch a mission to save her as the  _Huáscar_ stands poised on a knife-edge for combat while around them the threat of the Alliance tumbling down into total war runs them ragged.  
  
 **Episode 5 -- "Big Iron"** \-- 15 Dec '18.  
Hunting clues in a universe where humanity appears extinct, the  _Huáscar_ finds herself confronted with a desperate uprising in a troubled star cluster against a totalitarian government that is guilty of brutal experimentation against its own people. Commander Saumarez organises a mission to rescue experimental telepaths from the heart of government territory as Captain Zhen'var prepares to unleash the Big Iron on her hip -- the mighty  _Huáscar_!  
  
 **Episode 6 -- "Principles"** \-- 29 Dec '18  
Operating in Universe S0T5, the  _Huáscar_ is pressed into an unlikely alliance with NEUROM to save a planet of Espers from genocide. The morality and principles of the crew and their loyalty to their orders and government will be put to the edge as they collaborate with the murderous totalitarians of the Ministry of Fate toward the singular objective of stopping ethnic cleansing.  
  
 **Episode 7 -- "Golden Triangle"** \-- 12 Jan '19  
The  _Huáscar_  negotiates a withdrawal by the League of the North in A2M6 from a planet wracked with a bitter insurgency against the Colonial troops of the League, just to find the insurgency has been funding itself with horrifying drugs, bringing the Aururian Empire calling to assert order and put to the test the distinction between ideology and law in Alliance policy.  
  
  
Schedule for the second half of the season will be decided later.

 

Some character introductions, in order of seniority:  
  
Captain (substantive Battlemaster) Zhen'var, f/k/a/ Zhengli Varma -- adopted daughter of the legendary explorer Captain and Tulu kshatriya Kaveri Varma. She commanded the EAS  _Huáscar_ during the Tira Crisis in episodes 3-5 and 3-6 of the main series. After the mutiny by her XO which led to her being locked up, she had a nervous breakdown but still managed to regain control of her ship and help win the Battle of Tira against League forces determined to finish off the Dilgar survivors. The Earth government refused to sanction her actions, so the  _Huáscar_ traveled to Tira, where part of the crew took Union of Tira and Rohric (Modern Dilgar state) citizenship and part immigrated to the Alliance. The psychological impact of this experience led to her seeking out surgical modification into a Dilgar, which her much younger stepsister (her mother having married the Dilgar Warmaster Shai'jhur on the basis of their wartime relationship) Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur assisted with retroviral treatments to make at least partially into genetic fact. Considered insane by many, Shai'jhur gave her command of a lend-lease cruiser during the Reich War and, convinced of her stability for command, Admiral Maran was impressed upon to give her the new  _Huáscar_ in a joint-crewed ship as a gesture of Dilgar-Alliance friendship.  
  
Colonel (substantive Battlemaster) Fei'nur -- Commander of the Marine Regiment on the  _Huáscar,_ she is the last survivor of Warmaster Jha'dur's famed Corps of Spectres, the genetically, biochemically and cybernetically modified shadow assassins of the Dilgar Imperium. Every single other remaining Spectre was killed in operations around the Battle of Third Balos, but Fei'nur was more stable than the other Spectres, who had been mostly recruited from broken men, those who had killed their officers, serial killers, and other psychopaths. Fei'nur was a regular Dilgar recruit who had improbably killed an entire squad of Drazi in hand-to-hand combat with an entrenching tool. She was too badly wounded to ever be returned to service or even have much of a life, but with Jha'dur's Spectre modifications could return to the field and the Dilgar War. Having the practical perspective of a ranker, she realised the situation was lost and escaped to do SERE on the surface of Balos, where she survived on stolen rations and sometimes eating bodies, staying quiet and only murdering when needed to, until she could escape to look for other Dilgar resisters. Unfortunately her escape was too late to warn Warmaster Shai'jhur about Omelos' sun. She was responsible for organising the stealth evacuation of less than two million survivors from Omelos in the short hours between the withdrawal of the League and the sun decoupling. Had a brief relationship with Warmaster Shai'jhur in the aftermath of that which they are both embarassed about but which helped keep her from killing herself. Helped raise Shai'jhur's children, but in Dilgar, who lack an effective psychological mechanism to classify non-biologically related Dilgar as relatives, that hasn't stopped Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur (homosexuality being biologically mediated in Dilgar like in humans, she got it from Shai'jhur) from having a massive crush on her that she doesn't reciprocate, the girl literally being young enough to be her kit.  
  
Commander Abebech Imra -- a formidable mercenary from the weird S0T5 (Solarian/NEUROM/Fracture) universe who personally takes great advantage of the lax uniform regulations of the Alliance. Is perpetually seen in public in sunglasses and gloves and with sharply pulled back hair. Is probably of Ethiopian or Eritrean extraction. Dignified, cultured, and utterly fearless, her attacker the ASV  _Heermann_ is named after a WW2 Destroyer famous for its actions at the Battle off Samar and is the attached parasite ship of the  _Huáscar._ Does not talk about her background. Lt. Commander Saumarez suspects she is an Esper, which is common in S0T5, but Imra is profoundly isolate for one. The strict disciplinarian is nonetheless a brilliant shiphandler who has already established a long record of success. She helped in the rescue of Lt. Commander Fera'xero and other slaves from a Batarian cruiser while on the  _MacArthur,_ an old dreadnought given by one of the Alliance member states to the new Federal Navy, along with Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv. The  _MacArthur_ was lost in action against the Reich and Imra was the ranking officer who led the survivors of the crew in SERE against Reich attempts to capture or execute them.  
  
Commander (substantive Colonel) Will Atreiad -- Colonial Navy officer on the  _Galactica_ under Admiral Adama who was responsible for a critical part of the operations against the Cylons during 3-02. Transferred to the Alliance due to the fact the Colonial Navy only has two ships in service ( _Galactica, Pegasus_ ). Was given command of the  _Koenig_ when Commander Zach Carey was removed as a medical casualty and participated in operations with the  _Aurora_ and during the final months of the war against the Nazi Reich.  _Huáscar_ 's XO. Has some measure of survivor's guilt over the fact he has a comparatively intact family on New Caprica (Secundus). Token blue-eyed blonde white male.  
  
Surgeon-Commander Nah'dur -- Daughter of Warmaster Shai'jhur and a Distant Relative of Warmaster Jha'dur, the auburn-haired Dilgar is barely more than a teenager, but is already a qualified shiphandler and a Surgeon-Commander, a military specialist doctor in Dilgar terminology. She is the Chief Medical Officer of the  _Huáscar_ and a highly talented geneticist and surgeon. She is very pleased with the trust placed in her by the Krogan to engineer a cure to the genophage, and loves biological tinkering, including that which turned her older stepsister into a proper Dilgar. She feels that the Alliance medical establishment is incompetent and has been unable to adapt to the true potential of combining medical technology and talent from dozens of universes, so she's going to do it herself. Because of her complicated single-mother upbringing, she idolises Fei'nur in a somewhat inappropriate way and wants to establish a political organisation to encourage solidarity between felinoid species. Is very enthusiastic about the Old Imperium Days and sometimes evidences a bit less of a moral code than her elder sisters. Got promoted too fast.  
  
Lt. Commander Anna Poniatowska -- former Engineer of the  _Koenig,_ Anna Poniatowska is an 1850s Szlachta woman and descendant of a King of Poland, from the Russian dominated Kingdom of Congress Poland whose family was exiled to Siberia for opposing the Tsar, where the crew of the  _Aurora_ rescued her before the  _Aurora_ was even in service. She is the Chief Engineer of the ASV  _Huáscar,_ having used a combination of Darglan neural flash-learning ("brain wave infusions") and the practical, hands-on experience of working for none other than Engineering Captain Montgomery Scott to educate herself in modern Alliance technology and become a competent and detail-oriented Engineer. With her homeworld a postapocalyptic nightmare after the attacks by the  _Avenger_ she is not sure if she has any living relatives and is part of the "Victorian" contingent of refugees from 1850s Earth on the  _Huáscar._  
  
Lt. Commander (substantive Battle Expert) Elia Saumarez -- was the P-9/10 military department telepath of Psi-Corps on the EAS  _Huáscar._ Zhen'var was the only person in the crew who reliably treated her like a human being, and they became friends. At considerable risk to her own life because the Corps would have to disavow her for involving herself in abrratry and politics, she participated in the mutiny against Major Foster that led to Zhen'var regaining control of the EAS  _Huáscar_ at Tira, and was critical in its success. Zhen'var made her an Acting Ensign in Earthforce at that point--one of the reasons for the disavowal of her actions by EarthGov. Elia immigrated to Dilgar space with Zhen'var, where she joined the Mha'dorn, the Dilgar telepath organisation, and the Rohrican military. She stayed with Zhen'var, and when Zhen'var accepted commander of the ASV  _Huáscar,_ went ahead of her to be the commander of the naval acceptance team for the Alliance for the  _Huáscar_ and the commander of her plankowners. Was a first-rate Cricketeer who could have played professionally on the women's circuit if telepaths weren't banned from professional sport in the Earth Alliance. Is a descendant of the famous Saumarez (also spelled Sausmarez or Sausmares) family of the Channel Islands including a direct descendant of Admiral James Baron Saumarez of Algeciras, and grew up reading Aubrey-Maturin and Hornblower novellas and always wanting to serve in the Navy, another thing that telepaths were banned from doing in the Earth Alliance. She still feels loyal to Mother and Father, which makes others uncomfortable. Has a child in the Corps who she gladly left to the cadres because never wanted children or marriage, and a loveless marriage she actually went to the effort of obtaining a rare divorce inside the Corps over.  
  
Lt. Commander Fera'xero -- Quarian who on pilgrimage was enslaved by Batarians and forced to work as a machinist even though he was a scientist in training. Developed a way to modulate the FTL drive to send a distress signal, which was found by the ASV  _MacArthur,_ which rescued him and the other slaves in the crew of a Batarian cruiser. The rescuers included Commander Abebech Imra and Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv, the later before she transferred to the  _Aurora._ Is a highly capable scientist who maintains a side-hobby in watching foreign popular broadcasts and is a source of information for the crew. Quietly grieves over the loss of the  _MacArthur_ against the Reich and is very committed to the Alliance's ideals and personally to Abebech and Daria as some of the few survivors of those who saved him from slavery.  
  
Major (Substantive Battle Expert) Lar'shan -- Eldest son of legendary Dilgar Champion Battle Expert (now promoted to Battlemaster by Warmaster Shai'jhur) Ari'shan, the famed Dilgar knight of the spaceways and one of the few Dilgar pilots who could use a Thorun to fight a Starfury. Ari'shan became governor of New Eden and afterwards, mated and had a family there. Lar'shan was taught to fly in a reproduction Sopwith Camel trainer that his father's friends arranged for his father and him to have since otherwise the Dilgar on New Eden (circa 50,000) were banned from spaceflight. Eager to prove himself and unfailingly polite, his upbringing means he has more of a connection to humans than most of the Dilgar aboard the  _Huáscar_. He fought in action during the later months of the Reich War and is already an ace against the Reich space forces when assigned as wing commander to the  _Huáscar_ , where he is the subordinate in flight operations to Commander Imra.  
  
Lt. Commander Jonathan Goodenough -- A  _Gunner_ (Warrant Officer and head of the Gunner's Mates, who were Petty Officers) in the Royal Navy of the 1850s. The Royal Navy offered him an opportunity for a stable career as a mulatto man from the West Indies in the era. In the chaos caused by first the  _Aurora_ and then the  _Avenger_ led to Goodenough falling in with the  _Aurora_ 's crew before contact with the planet was cut off. He went through education and brain-wave infusions on New Liberty and then joined the new Alliance Stellar Navy where he served on several ships before, with the Reich War raging, he became the XO of the Attacker  _Heermann._ Abebech Imra appreciates his rigid, mid-19th century approach to the naval profession, and he respects her competence and iron will, uniting the talents of a woman from thousands of years in the future and a man who literally served under one of Nelson's officers early in his two-decade career in the Victorian Royal Navy. The multiverse is wild, dizzying, and sometimes uncomfortable, but people still form navies and fight in ships, so he's got something to do. Wears his hair in a long early-19th century sailor's pony tail still, and like the Dilgar and Imra thinks the Alliance uniforms are ridiculously plain.  
  
  
These are the senior commissioned officers. The Department Heads and senior warrants and noncoms will follow.

 

Character Introductions, Continued:  
  
Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv -- A cross-trained tactical and security officer and Dorei woman faithful to the Goddess, she participated in the rescue of Fera'xero on the  _MacArthur_ before transferring to the  _Aurora_ before the  _MacArthur_ was lost in action against the Reich. She grew up in a rural, humble family in a high mountain vale far from the great temples, which is part of why she wasn't discovered as a sensitive to the path of light (swevyra in Gersallian) until much later, when her abilities manifest under stress while fighting Cybermen on the  _Aurora_ during the orbital portion of the Battle of Canary Wharf. She then spent several months studying at a temple before deciding her course in life was to continue serving as an officer in the Alliance. Feeling overwhelmed at times by the attitudes of the crew of the  _Huáscar,_ she's been trying to fit in while striving to follow the path of her Goddess as a sensitive once she was, to her surprise, assigned to the new  _Huáscar_ on her return as the head of the Tactical Department (Weapons).  
  
Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu -- Cousin of the Pretender to the Romulan (Rihannsu) Star Empire's vacant throne and descendant of the legendary Ael t'Rllaillieu, first and last Empress of the Rihannsu. He briefly served in the Rihannsu military before being forced out by the Tal Shiar, who planned to permanently eliminate the Imperial family's descendants. With the help of a human woman operating under the code name "Charlotte Corday", he helped his cousin escape from Rihannsu space to the Triangle. Once there, she encouraged him to seek his honour and glory by serving in the Alliance military against the Reich, to which assented and enlisted for officer's training and served in action in the last months of the war against the Reich. He was assigned as the  _Huáscar_ 's Astrogator.  
  
Lieutenant Abel Veeringen -- The Chief Engineer of the  _Heermann,_ he is an assiduously competent engineering genius from a long multi-generational shipboard family in D3R1's Colonies, and is stereotypically a fanatical libertarian. Abebech tolerates him because he is very, very good at his job. Commander Goodenough wonders why he "talks about bloody economics" all the time. Something of a loner compared to the rest of the crew, he doesn't care who or what you are, but he is very worried about the tendency of nanny-statism in the Alliance. This manages to occasionally irritate even Abebech.  
  
Lieutenant Violeta Arterria -- Sirian mild gene-mod woman who joined the Alliance out of idealism from one of the Sirian worlds in L2M1, the Alliance capital's universe. Was a helm ensign on the  _Aurora_ for a sustained period of time before being promoted to Lieutenant and put in commander of the  _Huáscar_ 's helm rotation. A self-described nerd with an interest in holo-games she's found the fit under Zhen'var's extremely military leadership to be somewhat rough, but has from the start performed well as a capable helmswoman and good leader of her detachment. Caterina Delgado's ex-girlfriend.  
  
Lieutenant (substantive Combat Master) Va'tor -- Ship's Mental Hygienist. Many human crewers are uncomfortable with going to the Mental Hygienist, but Va'tor, a Mha'dorn professionally trained on Tira, is happy to help anyone of any race be their personal mental best with any psychosurgery and integrative therapy required to fix their problems and help them fit into their society and responsibilities in life. She's a bit confused about why humans have such a disorderly view of mental hygiene when they are the creators of the legendary lockstep fleet which broke her people in the Dilgar War.  
  
Lieutenant Abdulmajid Mehmet -- often incorrectly shortened to Abdulmehmet, he bears this with bemusement. Another 1850s refugee, this time from the Ottoman Empire, he, like Abel, keeps to himself, but his a bit wild and melodramatic in combat. And very, very gay. He makes no secret that he thinks Commander Goodenough is cute, with the Commander wishing the Turk would mind his damned business. The  _Heermann_ 's tactical officer, Abebech tolerates his quirks for his respective demeanour to  _her_ and his extreme competence at his job.  
  
Lieutenant (substantive Combat Master) Ca'elia -- Helmswoman of the  _Heermann,_ this Dilgar woman from New Eden was raised on 20th and 21st century British movies by Police Inspector Martha Whittaker, a Scotland Yard Detective who was responsible for training the Dilgar police force of Ari'shan's Governorate. Since the Dilgar there were not allowed lethal weapons, she was skilled in the use of batons, stun guns, morph gas projectors, glue guns, sonic guns, and water cannon, as well as martial arts. Her great love however was the sea, and she took the name Catherine Amelia and created a detailed persona as a Brit while commanding the sole Police Cutter the Dilgar had on the seas of New Eden. She is a highly disciplined, stiff-necked eager go-getter who could compete at the Olympic level in gymnastics if she ever had the chance and fits Abebech Imra's command style perfectly, having already proved herself a highly capable helmswoman.  
  
Ensign (substantive Combat Captain) Aur'ma -- a tactical officer on the  _Huáscar,_ Aur'ma is an Islander, a Valangar, one of the few noticeable (surviving) Dilgar ethnicities. Like Warmaster Jha'dur's flag captain, Battlemaster An'jash, she is a silver-blonde furred and haired Dilgar with violet/pink eyes, but in bone structure a Prime Dilgar, which is what saved the population of her peoples' native islands from genocide. The only Islander on New Eden, she was raised by Ca'elia's mother as a rare act of decency toward an orphan encouraged by the human occupational authorities, and occupies a definite space of her own as Ca'elia's exasperating goofy little sister. By the present she is part of a community of around 1,900 surviving Islanders trying to keep their unique culture alive among the other Rohrican and Tiran Dilgar.  
  
Chief Warrant Officer Anastasia Héen -- The highest ranking warrant officer on the  _Huáscar_ and  _Heermann,_ she is from the same Earth as the Alliance founders. A down on her luck mariner who had had her fishing purse seiner foreclosed on after trying to fish for a living after being laid off from the Alaska Maritime Highway System, Robert Dale's cousin Beth Rankin had brought her into the facility solely because she needed a job That Badly and had been Beth's friend for a while before the Darglan Facility was found. A highly experienced civilian Mate on Automobile Ferries in the Alaskan Inside Passage, with an unrestricted 3,000 ton Master's license, she still never served as an officer on the  _Aurora_ because she didn't want the unimaginable responsibility of a ship that could single-handedly nuke the planet. Instead, she served as the ship's Chief of the Boat, a position where she felt ignored by the  _Aurora_ 's command staff, ultimately requesting a transfer to a shore training establishment to help train the massive intake of volunteers during the Reich War. She was promoted to Master Chief Warrant Officer after completing Air Operations Training and is essentially the Chief Air Traffic Controller for the  _Huáscar,_ managing both on-deck handling of parasite craft and traffic control and fighter direction duties in space as "The Queen of PriFly". Her background is indigenous Tlingit, Raven Moiety, and she is a strict teetotler and a (very badly) lapsed Russian Orthodox Christian. "Just call me Stasia". Usually found with a 24-oz replicated knockoff of a classic Alaskan beverage, the "drive-up stand latte".  
  
Master Chief Petty Officer Richard "Rick" Dugan -- The Bosun's Mate from the EAS  _Huáscar_ , he was a twenty-year veteran of Earthforce who had joined up after getting laid off from his job as a Fuel Cell Repair Technician and then proceeded to stay loyal to Captain Zhen'var during the mutiny at the cost of his career and his home, and then joined up with the Alliance after the Tira Crisis because "If you can't kill Nazis, who can you kill, man?". A caucasian with sandy brown hair with flecks of gray and an utterly impressive 80s Cop mustache, he is the Chief of the Boat on the  _Huáscar,_ the ranking Noncom. Good professional friends with Stasia Héen, the two Chiefs make sure that the ship runs like a Navy vessel whatever the hell the wishy-washy Alliance regs say, and try to keep the Dilgar ratings' illegal stills under control. Master of the knife-hand and capable of terrorizing any rating into a pile of goo without opening himself to an EEO complaint, he has purely blue collar interests, respects Captain Zhen'var despite the fact she went a little crazy, and is never found without a 32-ounce coffee in hand. In combat he stands ready with the critical and highly dangerous EVA Damage Control squad. Says Stasia drinks fancy coffee because she's a girl. She started brewing pots of diner coffee in a real dinner coffee machine in PriFly in retaliation. Was friends with Elia on the old  _Huáscar_ and still calls her "Leather" when he can get away with it, except now with "Ma'am" added, in reference to her gloves.


	2. Act One

**Intro**

  
  
Captain (substantive Battlemaster, promotion from Battle Captain effective three days before) Zhen’var f/k/a Zhengli Varma had arrived on the ASV  _Huáscar_  one month before her commissioning ceremony for the intensive trials and efforts which would result in her being stood up as an active-duty ship of the Alliance Stellar Navy. A month of shipyard trials being run by the dockyard personnel with Lt. Commander (substantive Battle Expert) Elia Saumarez as the ranking naval officer had concluded with a reasonable punchlist of items to be corrected, and soon after the Battle of Germania Captain Zhen’var had arrived to assume command. The pre-commissioning trials had shaken loose a few more problems, and the shipyard personnel were still working to remedy them in many areas of the ship even as the ceremony was being held.  
  
Within a week of her commissioning ceremony, she was expected to leave for a month-long final shakedown cruise under regular commission with her crew at full list strength and her arms lockers and magazines full. When it was finished, she would begin to receive regular duty assignments as a part of the Fleet. Thus it would be only three months and one week after her physical completion as a functional ship that she would be fully operational, as a testament to the efficiency of the shipbuilders.  
  
The ceremony was held at Naval Fleet Base Alexandra in H1E4 on the docking-arm main assembly concourse. Admiral Maran was there, as well as the Foreign Minister and Warmaster Shai’jhur. The Foreign Secretary was of course the first to speak. Lentiro Onaran was a Dorei gentleman with ocean blue eyes and teal spots, dressed in a yellow and bronze formal suit of Dorei fashion as he came to the podium. In attendance, in formation, were the crews of the  _Huáscar_  and the  _Heermann_ , all in their dress uniforms. The Marine complement was present, too, in their own dress blues, the officers in their dress whites.  
  
Everyone was there: There was Commander Imra, decorated twice for bravery. Daria Seldayiv, her bright colouration contrasting with the white of the uniform, decorated much the same. So was Lt. Commander Poniatowska and several of the others. There was Elia and Will, Operations and XO, the two most important people, Zhen’var’s Hands, looking a bit uncomfortable at the ranks of medals and campaign ribbons a hell of a lot of their subordinates had. None of the medals matched the odd contrast of the two that Zhen’var wore. One was for operations over Germania, and one was the Line Medal. It stood above even the highest decorations for bravery in the whole of the Alliance. It was the medal which let someone know that you had held the Line, and there was no equal, save perhaps if the Spartans had seen fit to strike one for Thermopylae.  
  
In the audience was one fellow in a uniform like Shai’jhur’s, with a medal like Zhen’var’s. Governor the Battlemaster Ari’shan, looking uncomfortable between his Line Medal and the ribbon hanging low from his neck showing him the Grand Chief of the Order of the Champions that Warmaster Shai’jhur had created to award valor. He couldn’t help but keep peeking a look toward his son in the ranks of the pilots in their sky-blue full dress uniforms. Close by his side was Commander Montgomery Scott, having arranged to be in attendance for Anna Poniatowska, one of his engineers like Tom Barnes, and now standing up to commanding the engineering spaces of her own ship.  
  
Minister Onaran cleared his throat and politely steadied himself on the podium. “Gentlebeings, welcome to Fleet Base Alexandra. I shall keep my remarks short. I would not be present for the commissioning of a conventional warship, however, the  _Huáscar_  is a bold experiment at inclusion which promises to realise the great objective of ‘a more perfect union’. Crewed equally between the nations of the Alliance and a State in the admissions process, the  _Huáscar_  shall demonstrate the power and potential of the alliance to represent all nations in the Alliance’s stand for peace and sapient rights throughout the Multiverse.  
  
“The hour of supreme danger in the formation of the Alliance is over, and the terrible power of the Nazi Reich has been forever broken. Now is our chance for bold experiments to build the peace and hold our course as a beacon of liberty. The Multiverse still has many dangers in it, and to maintain the vision of the Alliance against those dangers, the Stellar Navy assumes all risks. In welcoming the Dilgar into the Stellar Navy, we make a powerful lesson for this Multiverse: The sins of the past will be forgiven in the deeds of the present, and nothing else. And nothing is more appreciated than the absolute willingness of the Dilgar nation to demonstrate those deeds. Your thirty-five ships and twenty-five divisions at Germania made the difference between victory and defeat. Your willingness to adapt to the Alliance is a testament to your future course. We want to walk this course hand in hand, eventually as one. And with that vision in mind, we bring the  _Huáscar_  to life, as one exemplar of a shared sacrifice in duty and honour to the ideals and mission of the Alliance. Without further ado, I present Warmaster Shai’jhur, Head of State of the Honourable Union of Tira and Rohric.”  
  
Slight and frail, with her grey-tinged fur, Shai’jhur stepped to the podium next. She held her right hand out as a gesture, moving it in short, sharp movements. “Comrades and friends, today we are gathered to celebrate something I long held as an objective. I believed urgently and correctly that our future would be in understanding humans, and appealing to humans with our deeds and with the moral reform of our society. This comprehensive reform, which evidenced itself in the way Dilgar voluntarily took up dharma study and democratic institutions founded on a completely indigenous conception of participatory government, led us to the moment over Tira where we could justly proclaim ourselves the wronged party, fighting for our lives and our homes, and desirous of being allies and members of the great experiment of the Allied Systems.  
  
“Today is the culmination of that effort. We will stand together as allies and friends all on the same ship, as we stood together in the fleets over  _Welthauptstadt Germania. Huáscar_  is now a unique name for the Dilgar, since it was the name of the ship which also defended Tira under Captain Zhen’var. When I subsequently read the history of the name, I was struck by the amazing courage which marked this ship. I decided the name had to live on in the Alliance Service, and Admiral Maran as Chief of Naval Operations kindly agreed with me. I thank our allies and I also take our place of pride: In four months we mobilized one-point-five million Dilgar to fight this war. Our population has barely reached forty-five million; in fact half that number, about two percent of our entire population saw action on the fronts against the Reich, even though they were engaged for a brief time. I do not wish our new friends in the Alliance to think this was but a single burst of activity for our people. We shall make ourselves useful henceforth as well, and to me, the  _Huáscar_  is the manifestation of that promise to our friends and allies. Be proud, Huáscareños, no matter what your blood is, you are the spirit and the future of the Dilgar Champions!”  
  
She stepped aside, flashing a wryly pleased look to Admiral Maran as he approvingly went to the podium next. He coughed, and smiled. “Gentlebeings, together we are gathered here to give life to a ship. The  _Huáscar_  is no common ship, but one of the finest, newest ships of the fleet, a showcase of the technology which was brought to us by the Aurora, of the legacy of the Darglan. Her mission is simultaneously exploratory and military, to be one of the foremost ships in defence, humanitarian aid, and discovery that we can field. She will follow in the footsteps of sisters and half-sisters like the Aurora, Enterprise and Excalibur. Yet for all her technology, it is the sapient intelligence, the power and emotion, the service and the honour, of those who crew her, that truly matters.  
  
“When her name was proposed to me by Warmaster Shai’jhur, I hesitated in agreeing. First, I turned to the histories of the name. They reassured me immediately. Here was a ship whose crew, in the service of two nations, had followed Right, rather than the simple, the easy path. Many of them paid for it with their lives. Our mission is not an easy nor a safe one, and theirs was much less so. They stayed the course, just like the most recent  _Huáscar_  did with her terrible and painful choice and struggle over Tira. We honour all of that with her name. Most of all, though, I believe as, a Gersallian, we can learn a great deal from the first Huáscareños. It was Captain Miguel Maria Grau Seminario who, on defeating the Chilean  _Esmeralda_ and seeing Captain Arturo Prat of the same struck down on  _Huáscar_ 's decks in a ferociously brave boarding action, decided to write this most tender message to Captain Prat’s widow:  
  


_**Dear Madam:** _

_**I have a sacred duty that authorizes me to write you, despite knowing that this letter will deepen your profound pain, by reminding you of recent battles.** _

_**During the naval combat that took place in the waters of Iquique, between the Chilean and Peruvian ships, on the 21st day of the last month, your worthy and valiant husband Captain Mr. Arturo Prat, Commander of the Esmeralda, was, like you would not ignore any longer, victim of his reckless valor in defense and glory of his country’s flag.** _

_**While sincerely deploring this unfortunate event and sharing your sorrow, I comply with the sad duty of sending you some of his belongings, invaluable for you, which I list at the end of this letter. Undoubtedly, they will serve of small consolation in the middle of your misfortune, and I have hurried in remitting them to you.** _

_**Reiterating my feelings of condolence, I take the opportunity of offering you my services, considerations and respects and I render myself at your disposal.** _

_**(Signed) Cpt. Miguel Grau** _

  
“This great humanitarian soon enough fell in battle in the defence of his country in the terrible War of the Pacific. The Chilean service of the  _Huáscar_  was no less meritorious than that for Peru, and the ship remained as a museum, a reminder of the heroism of two nations, a promise of peace and reconciliation between two peoples--the grave of two brave men. It is that spirit which transcends the name  _Huáscar_  being something heroic, and makes it into an ideal, just like the ideal of the Aurora and the ideal of the Enterprise. Truly, we should all meditate on the story of the  _Huáscar_  and be happy and confident that her latest incarnation shall serve as those of the past have served.  
  
“As for her Captain, Captain Zhen’var served valiantly in the attack on  _Welthauptstadt Germania_ , providing critical naval support. Her record there is well-publicised, so is her record over Tira, where she lost her home and her command for the sake of what is Right and Just. These were not easy choices, and they showed she was a fit woman for the Alliance, where we shall always strive to make Right and Justice the values for which we fight. In closing, I will simply say that the rest of her career requires no explanation and her choices require no defence. This is her ship to bring to life. Captain Zhen’var, please report.”  
  
“Admiral Maran, Captain Zhen’var reporting, aye!” She wheeled out to the side, stepped forward, and came to attention, forcing her hand not to salute by raw strength of will to avoid the wrong tone at the ceremony. Twenty years of muscle memory screamed at her and reminded her how informal the Alliance service was even at a time like this.  
  
“Captain Zhen’var, I hereby give to you the commissioning pennant of the ASV  _Huáscar_. By the power vested in me by President Morgan and the Government of the Alliance, you are directed to proceed without delay in crewing the  _Huáscar_  and insuring that every billet is taken to strength, securing that she is structurally fit for War in every respect, and taking aboard all the stores and arms required for her service as a Ship of War in regular commission.”  
  
“Sir, I accept my charge and order, Sir!” She again forced herself not to salute and accepted the commission pennant into her hands.  
  
“You may step forward and speak,” Admiral Maran added with a gentle, almost grandfatherly smile, as he stepped to the side.  
  
Zhen’var stepped forward to the podium. “Thank you, Admiral Maran. Gentlebeings, Huáscareños, I would like to add a little bit to the story of Captain Miguel Grau. You see, Latin America in the 19th century had endured wars which were utterly terrible, and traditionally governed by things like the Decree of War to the Death. Prisoners were not taken, or were brutalized and then killed. Atrocities governed the liberation wars against Spain and often occurred subsequently. Nothing like the Geneva Convention existed. But instead of decency being imposed from without, it grew from within. Miguel Grau was part of that process, the Knight of the Seas, famous for his humanitarian conduct toward his prisoners of war and civilians.  
  
“He gave his life cleanly and bravely, fighting for his country on the deck of his little ironclad against overwhelming odds. In that way his life is a lesson in both humanitarianism and in courage. He reminds me strongly of another man, who the crew of an earlier  _Heermann_  than our own were some of the last to see alive. A man who’s struggle with Rightness, to uphold dharma and condemn adharma, was a personal one in which he overcame the prejudice of his time. He was refused for the Naval Academy because of his three-fourths Indian blood, enlisted, and promptly won an academy spot anyway for merit. In the American participation in the Great Pacific War or Second World War, he first served on a destroyer forced to flee during the East Indies campaign.  
  
“He swore his first taste of defeat would be his last. On October 25th, 1944, he was in command of his own destroyer, the USS  _Johnston_ , when confronted by the overwhelming force of the Japanese Combined Fleet. With the rest of the screen out of position, and his ship the nearest, he immediately launched a headlong torpedo attack against four battleships, eight heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and twelve destroyers. Delivering his torpedoes and crippling the Japanese cruiser  _Kumano_ , his ship was shattered with a dozen rounds of main-calibre fire.  
  
“Breaking off into the squalls, he received the order of Admiral “Ziggy” Spruance that all screen ships were to conduct a general attack. His torpedoes exhausted, two fingers from his left hand severed by shrapnel, half his ship’s propulsion plant disabled, limited to seventeen knots with the helm worked by the chain falls on the steering gear, he swung back into line and attacked the full strength of the Imperial Japanese Navy a second time. Again taken under intense fire, the bridge was hit by main-calibre shellfire and most of his command staff slain. Badly wounded, Evans was last seen cheerfully waving to the Captain of the  _Samuel B. Roberts_  as he stood on the fantail of the  _Johnston_ , shouting helm orders to the men on the falls and steering closer to the enemy to engage a third time, his ship a burning ruin.  
  
“I will be plain with you, Huáscareños. Evans’ words when he commissioned the _Johnston_ are my words exactly, and we will all pray to the Almighty that we will not see the day we must true them. ‘This ship is going to be a fighting ship. I intend to go in Harm’s Way, and anyone who doesn’t want to go along had better get off right now.’”  
  
The Dilgar rankers erupted into cheers that sounded much like howls and growls. “Harm’s Way is the Valiant Way!” they cheered in their native tongue, the translators working to capture the intent. To avoid the moment being lost for the human crew of the  _Huáscar_ , Zhen’var raised her fist into the air. “Viva  _Huáscar_!”  
  
_“Viva Huáscar!”  
  
“Viva Huáscar!”  
  
“Viva Huáscar!”_  
  
As the three cheers finished rolling across the hall, Zhen’var turned, ramrod straight, to face Elia Saumarez, and presented the commissioning pennant to the black-gloved woman. “Lieutenant Commander, your order is to man the ship and bring her to life!”  
  
“Aye-aye, Sir!” She spun on heel and marched to the front of the column of the assembled. “Huáscareños, man the ship and bring her to life!”  
  
With Will at her side, Zhen’var stepped back up to Admiral Maran. Again her arm twitched. “Sir, by your instruction, the  _Huáscar_  has been crewed. I invite you to inspect the crew at review stations.”  
  
“Your offer is accepted, Captain. Lead on.”  
  
They toured the crew mess, engineering, the bridge, the magazines and ammunition lockers, the flight decks, the Marines’ bunkerage, the science labs, seeing in the crew turned out, lining the main halls at attention in their dress whites. Ari’shan, as a distinguished guest, accompanied the Captain and XO and Admiral Maran. The Foreign Secretary had already gone off to his next important event.  
  
A group of Dilgar officers were waiting, at attention. Behind them was one of the most impressive pictures that Will had ever seen. It was a terrible visage of a half-ruined ironclad ship, surrounded by four others, two close, two far, pouring fire on it. Wrecked and burning, the ruin in the heart of the formation returned fire fitfully, but defiant.  
  
“Admiral, Captain. Our gift for the Mess.” The leading woman, in a Lieutenant’s uniform, bowed. “ _La combate de Angamos_. We wished to show we could be true Huáscareños to the memory of such a man as Grau, too! His death was as valiant as a Dilgar could seek. Please, accept the token, that we may never bring dishonour to our name.”  
  
“It is a very fitting work.” Zhen’var leaned in at the detail of the canvas, and nodded. “I accept the gift in the spirit it is presented, Lieutenant. It shall hang in the mess, as a reminder of our profession - and our traditions.”  
  
“You honour us, ma'am.” The officers came to attention and saluted. Unlike Zhen’var, they didn’t even bother to try and stop themselves. The punishment in the Union Navy was too harsh to consider anything else.  
  
Afterwards, Zhen'var and Will went to Zhen'var's ready room with Admiral Maran to meet Commander Imra--and Warmaster Shai'jhur. The ready room had its own portrait, of Miguel Grau, a copy of one commissioned long ago for the Peruvian Naval Academy.  
  
As the junior Dilgar officer there, Zhen’var stiffened to attention, and spoke conversationally for the sake of the other two there; “Here stands a Warmaster!”  
  
“At ease, Captain,” Shai’jhur responded mildly, stuffing her hands into her pockets and looking coolly at the image of Miguel Grau. “It’s a good reminder to keep in your office, Captain.”  
  
“He was a remarkable man,” Maran agreed, moving to sit with the Warmaster. “At ease, Commanders. Please sit with us as well.”  
  
Zhen’var moved to sit, glancing about the still sparsely decorated ready room, making mental notes what she’d place where, and what she would have to try and find. “The crew is ready, from my impressions.”  
  
“I agree,” Maran said. “They snapped to duty with a remarkable alacrity, and your handling of the matters of cultural integration like the cheer was very wise. I don’t think integration is going to prove a difficulty at all.” A slight frown. “However, your shakedown cruise could be relatively difficult. For reasons that are not particularly germaine, you are to conduct your shakedown cruise in E5B1.”  
  
The captain’s face stilled, though she gave a single nod. “Of course, Admiral. Do you have the briefing, then?”  _Could be relatively difficult? That is quite the understatement._  
  
“You will be proceeding to reinforce the Darglan patrol, and conform to the orders of Captain Feroi of the  _Riachuelo_. There are intelligence indications of instability in Interstellar Alliance territory focused on the Earth Alliance. That is a suitable duty for a shakedown cruise, for the duration you will have a supporting role only.”  
  
“Of course, Admiral. We will stand ready to support Captain Feroi’s command as-ever may be necessary.” Her response was automatic, though already, her mind was thinking to what she’d seen from the news reports, trying to think of what it could be in the recently unstable Alliance.  
  
“Then, there is one final consideration,” Shai’jhur now spoke, softly, and deliberately. “Battlemaster Ari’shan will be your guest aboard for the shakedown cruise. He is there at the special request of the Alliance government… Provide him every bit of assistance possible. His mission is primarily a diplomatic one, but unfortunately the details cannot be forthcoming at this time.”  
  
“I obey in ignorance, Warmaster.” She replied, wondering if there were any more problems that were about to be thrown her way. The war hero of the Dilgar War, who’d fought on the Line and actually shot down several Nials?  _No pressure at all, Zhen’var_!  
  
“Thank you, Captain.” Shai’jhur exchanged a sharp look with Admiral Maran, who sighed.  
  
“My apologies, Captain. Your ship will bear this trial as her first, however. And I am confident in the outcome.” He rose, Shai’jhur rose. The other officers moved to depart.  
  
Shai’jhur paused at the door, turned back, and winked. “It will be fine, daughter-Zhen.” With that, she too departed.  
  
Zhen’var flopped back into her desk chair, and carefully forced the informality of first names she would soon get used to through her lips--and one name that she had plenty of familiarity with. “Will, please get Anna and Elia up here so we can start planning. We are going to start with the assumption that our playing backup for the Darglan guardship is going to last for all of five minutes, and go from there!”  
  
  
  


**Undiscovered Frontier: Origins**

**"Matters of Honour"**

  
  
**Act 1**  


  
Spacers, by and large, thought space to be beautiful. For the most part the crew of the  _Huáscar_  was no exception, loving the space around them. They were after all volunteers. Even the Dilgar had been volunteers, at least for this duty. They held themselves a breed apart, but so did many sorts of people, for many different reasons.  
  
With her crew still settling down, a week into the voyage, Zhen’var had invited her senior officers to dinner. Will, Abebech, Anna, Elia, Nah’dur, Fei’nur. Operations was “over the others” as a matter of practice, though by rights one could argue that Lar’shan could be invited--however, Zhen’var treated Abebech as the supreme commander of her attached parasite forces, fighters as much as the  _Heermann_ , and it made a certain level of sense, since the  _Heermann_  could easily be used as a Forward Air Control ship for the fighter wing.  
  
She held a brief moment of silence at the start of the meal, as the inherently multicultural nature of the Service dictated. They were an intensely eclectic bunch, as Zhen’var’s eyes roved over the group. Each was settling into their roles, and she smiled as the moment of silence ended.  
  
“Our mission has lasted longer than five minutes, thank the Divine for small favours. Your reports all indicate that everything is coming together well.”  
  
“Ship operations are as smooth as can be expected after a relatively short duration of operations. We’re meeting our objective metrics for decreases in response time across drill scenarios, though not really outperforming them, either,” Elia explained, gloved hands slicing fish. They ate a lot of replicated fish to keep group meals respectful of everyone’s diets. “Which is management speak for ‘we’re meeting your objectives, Captain, but not exceeding them.’” She grinned.  
  
Anna was eating her salmon with a dill sauce, and looked up thoughtfully. “Engineering is exceeding objectives for recommended times in reactor shutdown drills. I’ve always considered that a personal objective. The rest is within metrics.”  
  
“Is the breakdown the same across the operating divisions, Elia?” Will asked.  
  
She shook a gloved hand in the air. “Mostly. Tactical is bringing up the tail, but it’s strictly due to the lack of experience in anyone except L’tenant Seldayiv.”  
  
“That sounds like an excellent reason for more holodeck sim time.”  _Huáscar_ ’s crew already found (in)famous their Captain’s love of the things for training, though trying to get a recreational pass was another matter entirely.  
  
“I could devote some time to one run as the OPFOR,” Abebech remarked pleasantly from her side of the table. She ate, but it always seemed like she was just picking at her food.  
  
“Merciful God, that might humiliate Daria a bit,” Elia looked skyward.  
  
“Do not crush their spirits, Commander, but do not go easily on them either. I need them to get better, not feel the effort impossible.” Zhen’var replied, neatly nibbling apart another morsel of fish.  
  
“Of course, Captain.” Abebech drizzled some sugar into her coffee and stirred the froth.  
  
“I’ll go over some strategies with Daria tomorrow on accelerating their learning in the sims,” Will added, jotting down a note on a pad. By mutual consensus Zhen’var and Will had banned omnitool use at the dinner to avoid distractions--department heads could easily spend all night signing e-docs--and had to lead by examples.  
  
“Thank you. Colonel?”  
  
“No problems, Captain, though a real battle will do more than anything else to settle the differing cultures in the detachments.” She grinned, as Zhen’var shook her head.  
  
“So noted, but I am not going to try and give you one. Surgeon-Commander?”  
  
“Oh, ah, Captain. Everything is fine in sickbay. The Mha’dorn Mental Hygienist--Lieutenant Va’tor--has established her evaluation schedule for the secure information authorizations and I have ninety percent compliance with physical standards and get-well plans for the rest.”  
  
Will leaned over to Elia. “...Do they really call them mental hygienists?”  
  
Elia grinned. “I know it sounds bad, but she’s just a therapist.”  
  
“Yes, the Dilgar have therapists. I know this is something the wider multiverse will not believe even after meeting her.” The captain’s voice was intensely dry as she took a sip of her tea.  
  
“So, how long is our VIP going to be aboard?” Anna asked from her side of the table. There wasn’t much else to cover at the moment, and it was odd.  
  
“I assume until he leaves.” There was a pause, before she broke into a smile. “More seriously, do they ever really tell the Fleet why they are hosting VIPs for no reason? I am sure there is some reason we do Not Need to Know.”  
  
“Yet.” Will added with a cheerful grin.  
  
“Spare us surprises,” Elia gestured grandiloquently with a wry roll of her eyes.  
  
“Oh, at least there will be excitement when we find out.” Zhen’var gave a soft laugh as she replied.  
  
The dinner turned to some lighter topics, and lingered for a while, until the officers slowly let themselves out when Zhen’var signalled it over. In the end, it was just her, Will and Abebech, Captains and XO.  
  
“Well, Captain, quite the merry bunch. Feels almost amazing not to be thrown straight into fighting, too,” Will chuckled.  
  
“We needed it, and I am grateful. We shall be in desperate combat soon enough. Thank you for being here, both of you. You’ve both proven yourselves even better than your files said.”  
  
“I execute my orders, Captain,” Abebech smiled. “Thank you for the endorsement, nonetheless--it does mean much to me. Will and I shall try to avoid being your Attacker mafia.” The last sentence raised a chuckle from her fellow Commander.  
  
“Well, thank you for that! I disagree, profoundly, with how they’re organized. We are one crew, one ship in two hulls, and should be inseparable.”  
  
“I concur. It is an idiosyncratic operational system which comes down to a good personal relationship between the three of us to be successful.”  
  
“The good news is that I think we have one. Other ships are not nearly so lucky. Have a good evening, Commanders. I have the usual drudgery of daily reports to finish.”  
  
“Thank you,” they chorused, and rose, leaving Zhen’var alone to retire to her ready room and cabin.  
  
It would be shortly after she had settled down when the chime activated on the door and the computer provided that slightly-too-helpful introduction. “Governor Ari’shan of Tira.”  
  
The Dilgar woman frowned as she triggered the unlock from her console, forcing herself to rise to her feet with a soft groan under her breath. “Governor. What brings you here so late?” Datapads and holo-displays covered the desk in neat stacks before her as she waved the lights marginally brighter.  
  
“Captain Zhen’var,” he stepped in politely, remaining standing. “My apologies, but the final details of my mission came through, and I wanted to inform you immediately.”  
  
“Go ahead, Governor. Sit, please.” Her look was more than a bit wary. “It does not involve you flying a starfighter, does it?”  
  
“Certainly not. It’s part of a diplomatic effort,” he answered, moving to sit as offered. “As you may recall, I made friends with many of the Earth Alliance Intelligence personnel who debriefed me after my capture.”  
  
“I do.” She felt her face still slightly, almost involuntarily. Anything involving Earth was still an intensely raw nerve. “I am suspecting I see where this is going, but, please, continue.”  
  
“You certainly are well-aware of the reality that tensions between the Allied Systems and the Earth Alliance are at an all-time high… It was your mother who explained to me many of the moral principles that are the basis of our government’s legitimate criticism of the Earth Alliance, in fact. There is a fear these could escalate, and a desire to prevent it--a desire which is fervently held by EAI. They’re trying to reach out to me to arrange a series of informal talks to discuss issues between our nations and reduce tensions at the institutional level.”  
  
“The deep state indeed… very well, Your Excellency. What do you need from  _Huáscar_?” She took in the information and accepted it, without making any comment of how awkward it was for her.  
  
“I’m not sure who had the idea of using your ship, Captain,” Ari’shan offered, perceptive enough to see the unspoken comment. “You will just host talks on the frontier with claimed Earth Alliance space. It is only ten hours by warp, and their ship should arrive eight hours after that, roughly, from the intelligence message I just received.”  
  
“Perhaps someone who does not want the talks to succeed. Very well, Excellency. I will brief Fei’nur to have security measures in place, and we’ll keep to a moderate speed to not raise suspicions from others, but I will be briefing my senior officers first thing in the ship’s morning.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Hangar operations was located in a build-out that the earlier members of the class lacked, a sponsoned, windowed control tower molded into the hull lines on the starboard side above the main dorsal hangar as an additional hull blister. There, Chief Warrant Officer Anastasia “Stasia” Héen was queen of the void in the immediate vicinity of the  _Huáscar_ , dishing it out to the pilots with her handleless navy mug in one hand and microphone on her headset pressed not-quite to her lips in her light blue starfighter forces uniform, the septum ring as a personalized touch from her Tlingit ancestry. Her voice brooked the steady confidence of a civilian professional, handling the operations like air traffic control, the impersonal voice of God, between slugs of the dubious coffee made from an actual pot in PriFly rather than a replicator.  
  
Surrounded by glass, windows to give a 360 degree view of the dorsal surface, crew working at a dozen screens that processed anything from sensor displays to control boards for monitoring space utilization inside of the hangars, it was second only to main engineering as a place of apparent action on the ship. It also offered the perfect place for Ari’shan to watch his son.  
  
“Do you have the waypoints confirmed, Sir?” Stasia glanced over to Lieutenant Arterus tr'Rllaillieu, the ship’s Astrogation Officer.  
  
“Confirmed and set,” Arterus repeated from his temporary console. “You are free to execute, Airboss.”  
  
“WC-50 Actual,” Stasia keyed the channel over to reach out to the commander-on-scene of the 50th Naval Flight Wing, Lar’shan, “you are clear for grid area epsilon-43, repeated epsilon-43. Navigation waypoints set and locked for high energy manoeuvring. I have placed recovery shuttles in epsilon-42 station ninety-alpha and epsilon-38 station seventy-foxtrot, over. Proceed at your discretion.”  
  
“Huáscar PriFly, this is WC-50 Actual. Commencing high energy manoeuvres through grid area epsilon-43. The squadron is now manoeuvring according to engagement waypoint pattern. I read epsilon-42, epsilon-38 as locked and nav on all fighters confirming restrictions.”  
  
“Restrictions verified and set. You are clear, WC-50 Actual. Huáscar PriFly out.”  
  
Ari’shan watched the holotank in PriFly that was, now that the wing had rapidly moved beyond visual range, his only image of what was going on. He watched as the fighters blossomed in a half-a-hundred directions and began a series of manoeuvres, not for combat, but just to practice deconfliction and close-quarters handling without collisions. His son was there, directing them all.  
  
“He’s a damned fine pilot, Sir,” Stasia remarked as she watched the holotank herself, old-style headset dangling--she wanted to avoid the sometimes imperfect computer-directed voice pickup in a operations room that had a dozen people. Also, it was a tool of the trade.  
  
Ari’shan smiled up to the taller human woman. “I wouldn’t go around denying that.”  
  
“He speaks in glowing tones about you, Sir. Damned fine pilot yourself, I would think?”  
  
“...That, perhaps, he needs to do less of.”  
  
Arterus stepped up to the older Dilgar ace’s side. “I confess, from the way he does, Sir, it seems like you should have been given your own wing or two for Germania simply by asking.”  
  
Ari’shan smiled, in a way Stasia interpreted as wan. “Perhaps it is so, but I am getting old, and don’t have any flight time since the Line. Reflexes ultimately grow slow, and I’ve never commanded a warship. Or even served in the operating crew of one.”  
  
Perhaps it could have been left at that, but instead he continued, his eyes never leaving the holotank even as he spoke of something unrelated to his son’s manoeuvres. “It was also a delicate time on Tira, and they needed someone of the Old Imperium to guide them into our future. War Expert Fiy’jash was … Unwell, and the Warmaster wanted me. At the end, I spoke at length with my mate and with the Warmaster’s eldest daughter Battlemaster Tia’jhur and we agreed that, as odd it is for me, my place was there, not in the cockpit. This is a time for my son’s glories.”  
  
“To everything there is a season,” Stasia murmured, and then turned aside to deal with something.  
  
“It’s hard to admit there’s a time when the front-rank is no longer for you,” Arterus remarked. “Few would be able to overcome the vanity.”  
  
“Well,” Ari’shan laughed, “Front-line service, yes. But not completely. As the civilian governor I am fortunately not supreme commander of the defence force, which lets me serve in the reserves as a Wing Commander for one of our aerospace fighter wings. I expect I might still do a little to even the odds for the reservists.”  
  
Considering the man’s reputation, Arterus couldn’t help but laugh. He expected Ari’shan would do altogether much more than ‘even the odds’. There was something very Rihannsu in the unassuming, droll tone to an expectation of mayhem that sentence had promised. He liked the man.  
  
Then an alarm trilled and Stasia jerked to the side, studying the holo. “Distortion in Epsilon-39 -- that’s a jump point. Block it off as an incoming.”  
  
“Incoming, Epsilon-39,” one of her plotters repeated.  
  
“WC-50 Actual,” Stasia toggled her line to Lar’shan’s fighter. “We have incoming. Keep your wing clear of Epsilon-39 and stand by for orders from Huáscar Actual.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The ship that arrived was an Omega, as yet unmodified. She ran close to the border after leaving hyperspace and her thrusters fired and fired again to line her up to tread along the imaginary line in space. Zhen’var came up to the bridge a minute later.  
  
“Captain,” Elia came to attention. “The ship is the EAS  _Charybdis_. It appears that the Governor’s friend is ready to come aboard by shuttle.”  
  
“Very well. Signal our readiness to receive them in the main bay.” Zhen’var gave a wary look to the tactical display. So they’ve sent an Omega, and not one of the ones that would let us see their progress at multiversal adaptation. “Colonel Fei’nur, get your teams ready to meet them. I do not want Earth Alliance Intelligence to learn too much avoidable.”  
  
“Understood, Captain!” The Dilgar woman stiffened to attention, before starting to move to the lift. She was still not used to the rank, but then with her promotion to Battlemaster on the same day as Zhen’var, she wasn’t used to her Dilgar rank either.  
  
“Commander Saumarez, please, lead the side party so she can concentrate on the security arrangements.”  
  
“Understood, Captain. Do I stand relieved?”  
  
“You stand relieved, Commander. This is Captain Zhen’var, I have the deck and the conn.”  
  
Around Elia the bridge remained a well-oiled machine, seamlessly moving from her direction to the Captain’s. She caught a second turbolift belowdecks, leaving behind the starship for the uncertainties of the surface. The shuttle took long enough that she had enough time to quickly switch from duty wear into full dress whites. Confirming that the shuttle was two minutes out, she headed from her quarters and took another turbolift to the main hangar.  
  
The commander of their Marines and security forces was standing ready for her, having thrown on a light combat rig. Fei’nur was intimidating even in a state of perfect peace. “Commander, I’ll be keeping an eye out for any infiltrators, and have escorts available for the party. They’ll follow your direction, though Lieutenant Har’un will be the tactical lead if anything goes wrong.”  
  
Elia headed for Fei’nur, though she blinked at the combat rig. “Colonel Fei’nur, they’re heading in now. Are we ready?”  
  
“We are. Don’t worry, Commander, just an old woman’s paranoia.” She shifted on her feet a bit, and there was a momentary shimmer as the harness disappeared.  
  
“It’s your judgement.” Elia flashed a smile and a gloved thumbs up before walking out into the bay. “Just as long as the side party isn’t rolling hot, right?”  
  
“Don’t worry, I have missile teams for that!” It was said with a laugh as the side party assembled.  
  
The LSO had programmed the computer to display Earth Alliance standard landing signals for the shuttle’s approach, and the Christmas Tree flashed with the instructions. The ACHO was already re-spotting several shuttles with manoeuvring dolleys to make sure that the fighters could be recovered successfully despite the big EA atmospheric shuttle sitting in the VIP position in the main hangar.  
  
The shuttle came to a stop smoothly, whomever was piloting was quite veteran at it. As the hatch to the shuttle lowered, the bosun’s whistle blew. An older man walked down the ramp, and Elia immediately tensed. Even she recognised who it was instantly.  
  
“Permission to come aboard?”  
  
She cleared her throat and presented a neutral smile. “Permission granted. Director O’Leary, welcome to the ASV  _Huáscar_. I am Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez, Ship’s Operations Officer. This is Lieutenant Colonel Fei’nur, FMF Commander  _Huáscar_. Governor Ari’shan will be in Conference Suite Two.”  
  
Fei’nur considered not giving one of the men most responsible for the loss of the Dilgar War a death glare of homicidal intent to be one of her greatest efforts of self-control in recent memory, for her part, as she stared resolutely and blankly ahead.  
  
“...Lieutenant Commander,” Francis O’Leary answered stiffly, looking at the gloves, and the Flying Eye of Dilgar telepaths being worn on a human. “I understand this must have been a surprise for everyone involved,” he allowed after a moment, nodding in Fei’nur’s direction. “Colonel.”  
  
“I’m pleased to do my part for pacific relations between our nations, Director,” Elia answered diplomatically. She could feel the eyes on her from the group of EAI personnel who had followed Francis O’Leary down the ramp. With the eyes came a smattering of thoughts from insulting to obscene; none were new. “Right this way.”  
  
As they walked, one of O’Leary’s subordinates couldn’t help it. “You think you’d take off those gloves now that you have the chance,” she said, sotto-voice.  
  
The response she wanted to give, would you kindly take off your panties and flash us? had been one she had never yet vocalised in her life. She had been raised from a young age to de-escalate situations with Mundanes, not escalate them. “Some things are worth keeping because they work best, Miss…”  
  
“Sara Danvers, Lieutenant Commander,” she answered sharply, as if the rank itself were something of an embarrassment or a joke. Even strictly restraining herself, Elia knew that in fact both thoughts were true.  
  
“Be polite, Sara,” Director O’Leary’s voice interrupted from behind. “I’m the one with the most complaints against the Corps and that doesn’t give me, or you, reason to be impolite to the Operations Officer here and her ship. They’re all Ari’s friends.”  
  
“Of course, Director,” she replied, ruffled.  
  
Elia wondered, for a moment, what it meant to be in someone’s good graces solely because of their alien friend. The fact that she was on only that basis had been made very clear. She shrugged lightly. Professionalism helped. “Director, I’ve arranged to have Chief Ashley Sherrod organise refreshments in the conference suite with the Food Management Team, and she’ll be waiting to make sure everything is right, and depart on your request. She’s our PAO lead and also has responsibility for coordinating VIP space, so if any of you choose not to return to your ship for the evening she can make sure Billeting has suites arranged.”  
  
“That’s unlikely, as nice as the digs probably are on your ship, Lieutenant Commander,” he answered, sincerely bemused. “I’ll need to return to the Charybdis on a regular basis for secure communications.”  
  
“Understood, Director. The Air Boss, Chief Warrant Anastasia Héen, has orders to clear your shuttle upon the request of anyone in your group. Just ask and you can cycle through. And of course we’ve been cleared to hold station on the frontier for as long as necessary.”  
  
“We’ll certainly avail ourselves of it. Is the Captain going to be attending?”  
  
“At the request of yourself and Governor Ari’shan only.”  
  
“Well, we’ll check up on Ari first.” On reaching the Conference suite, Director O’Leary stepped in with no further ado. His staff followed in a cluster -- and one of them pressed the door-close pad as they stepped in.  
  
Elia came up short as she watched the door close in her face on her own ship. In a sense it was a relief, since it ended her exposure to their minds. “I suppose you will,” she muttered after a moment, and then stepped to the side and activated her omnitool. “Captain, this Lieutenant Commander Saumarez. Our guest is nobody less than Director O’Leary of EAI. He wanted a private meet and greet with the Governor, but you should probably expect to be down here shortly.”  
  
“Understood, Commander. Take a short spell in the wardroom, then I will hand the deck to you when you arrive back on the bridge. Thank you.”  
  
Elia deactivated the comm channel. Too bad this isn’t an Aubrey-Maturin novel, then I could make it a wet lunch. Of course, that didn’t stop the Dilgar crew.  
  
  
  
  
  
Zhen’var’s omnitool was trilling an incoming message just a few hours later. “Captain Zhen’var, Governor Ari’shan here. Director O’Leary has requested your presence.”  
  
“Understood, Your Excellency. I should be down in about fifteen minutes?” Her voice was calm, as she rose from her desk.  
  
“That will be fine, Captain,” Ari’shan replied.  
  
Well, that took less time than I was expecting. Let us see just what the director wants… She schooled her face to blankness when she stepped out of the lift, walking to the Conference suite. “Your Excellency, I am here.”  
  
“This way,” Ari’shan offered with a smile. One of the Food Management Team members was putting out snacks in one of the small, side conference rooms. “Francis, Captain Zhen’var.”  
  
Every. Single. Eye in the room was on her. Francis himself betrayed no emotion, but several of his subordinates were veritably transfixed.  
  
Zhen’var didn’t hesitate, only moved to offer her hand. “Director O’Leary.”  
  
“Captain Zhen’var. Ari was explaining to me some of the complexity of your relationship with the Alliance of Systems. And just catching up.” He shook her head readily enough, meeting her catlike eyes levelly. “Tira sounds lovely, I’ll have to visit after I retire.”  
  
“It is, Director. Rohric has its’ own charms, though I understand why you would be unwilling to subject yourself to them.” There was a hint of challenge in her eyes as she said it, though none showed in her voice. “I am glad to hear that you two have such a strong friendship despite recent travails.”  
  
“I opposed the forced relocation, it’s not in the best interests of the Earth Alliance,” Director O’Leary answered. “Come on, let’s sit. We do have a lot to discuss. I’d extend that to complimenting Warmaster Shai’jhur’s bloody-minded brilliance in laying low on Rohric, but unfortunately we do have some more serious matters to concern ourselves with.”  
  
She moved to sit, then, finally giving the others in the room a quick once-over. “Of course, Director. What seems to be the matters at hand?”  
  
“Well, first of all, I just want to verify what Ari’shan said--it’s important to have it for the record, you understand--that despite the fact you are not a legal Alliance citizen, you have the right to function on the behest of its government, like a Consul.”  
  
“As long as I hold command of this ship and am not actively under direct command of a superior officer, that statement is correct, Director.”  
  
“That’s good enough for me. So, the first thing is that I just want to be emphatic that we don’t have a long term problem over the Dilgar. Our allies might, but Earth doesn’t. Our points of friction are purely with the Alliance and have come primarily over competing territorial claims and issues with,” his expression was a bit pained, “criminals fleeing Earth Alliance space.”  
  
“Criminals, Director?” Zhen’var’s face reflected the honest confusion she felt. On her patrols in the League when she’d served in Earthforce, she’d never heard anything of the like before.  
  
“Telepaths, Captain. There is a serious issue with unregistered telepaths leaving the Earth Alliance. The government has come under pressure from Psi-Corps to find a solution. I wanted to act pre-emptively to try and strategize a solution which will reflect our best interests.”  
  
“Would not that be an Earthforce function, Director? Certainly, it is a matter of concern for Geneva, I would think.” And the Free Colony is a bit problematic, depending on what you are wanting from me.  
  
“Let’s be clear, Captain. Personally, I understand someone’s striving to be free. I’ve seen what Psi-Corps is, and I’ve lost friends I respected to their actions in regimes of dubious legality. But I am here to make sure that Earth’s interests are communicated clearly to the Alliance of Systems and that I have an opportunity to report to President Luchenko on how we might begin to de-escalate tensions between our countries. That’s what this is about. Well, one of the biggest tensions is created by the feeling in certain parts of EarthGov that you have a giant terrorist camp in your space right now.” Francis O’Leary was playing a double-game, his opposition to Psi-Corps he was making clear even as he carefully maintained the government line, and in principle it offered an opportunity.  
  
“I understand why they would think that, Director. Some matters, I will need to consult with Portland before opening discussions upon, but attacks on Corps assets are unacceptable terrorist activities. If they are happening, and supported from within Alliance space, we will certainly move against such actors.”  
  
“I know you’ll have to consult, and that’s fine. EAI doesn’t have the longest leash, either, we’re just here because of the connections. However, I think we might just be the best-placed people to see a path to a solut…” he trailed off as his comm trilled. “Major Johansen, what’s worth the interruption?” Barely the moment he’d said it, Francis stiffened almost imperceptibly.  
  
He offered a smile to Zhen’var a moment later. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Captain, I’m going to have to return to the Charybdis for consultations right now, in fact. We’ll reach out to you when we’re ready to resume, but based on shipboard time here, I’ll give it at least nine hours so you can sleep.”  
  
Zhen’var felt a slight flicker of worry at his expression. “Understood, Director, nine hours. That will not be a concern.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Of all the people that Zhen’var had expected to be woken up by after only two hours of sleep, her science officer was lower on the list than most. But Lieutenant Commander Fera'xero’s voice sounded urgent through the comms. “Captain, I was watching ISN to learn more about human culture in this universe, and there is breaking news. A major terrorist attack just occurred on Mars. However, I believe the footage is at least several hours old and has been subject to editing.”  
  
Zhen’var kept rolling, straight out of bed. She tried to think of what would be the easiest place to display the footage. “Computer, summon all off-duty department heads and senior officers to the Wardroom.”  
  
“Acknowledged,” the mechanical voice droned back.  
  
Damn it all, this is a poor omen.  
  
A large collection of sleepy people, humans, Dilgar, other species, had assembled at the directive, since the ship’s time meant most of the Department Heads were off duty. Will had the conn, though, so the XO was absent. Abebech had brought along the department heads of the Heermann, three human men and the very proper looking Lieutenant Ca’elia who had put herself together even in the middle of the night.  
  
“Good… well, calling it a morning is rather a joke at this point. Commander Fera’Xero has some footage for us to view. There has apparently been a major terrorist attack on Mars, several hours ago. I have already requested information from higher echelons on the details involved.”  
  
Fera’Xero himself activated the holo-projector, zooming in to ISN. It was still in full coverage mode, nominally ‘live’. Someone had a drone camera which was showing a prominent hole in the side of a Martian dome, about mid-point.  
  
Anna stepped forward and insistently traced it with her finger. “Commander Fera’xero, do you agree it’s bowed outwards?”  
  
“Yes, and not enough difference in atmospheric pressure to make it a result of the depressurisation, either. Internal blast, but,” he used his omnitool to scroll back through the images he had recorded. “Here’s one that came externally, and there are reports of atmospheric raiders operating against the domes. This is dreadfully unfortunate, the Martians justly fear a dome-breach as we do a suit-breach.”  
  
“Free Mars, even the radical ones who do not agree with any remaining ties with Earth, would never strike big domes as that, and especially not with atmospheric raiders. Clark’s strikes on the domes would be far too raw. Do we have any information on the targets?”  
  
“The first Dome was a habitation, but the second one Fera’xero showed,” a tired Elia with bloodshot eyes spoke, fixed on the images, now showing ships manoeuvring as someone talked about evacuations, “the one attacked by atmospheric raiders, I mean. That was a Psi-Corps facility.”  
  
“Damnation.” Zhen'var growled, looking balefully at the screen for a long moment as she gathered her thoughts from a fatigued and scattered brain.”It is my belief that the second target was the primary aim, and I am concerned by the Earth delegation bringing up a worry that the Alliance was harbouring ‘terrorists’ in the Free Colony. Thoughts, my fellow Huáscareños?”  
  
“We’re about to be accused of supporting a terrorist attack,” Nah’dur said very matter-of-factly.  
  
“Concur,” Abebech added.  
  
“But why Mars?” Goodenough ran a hand through his long hair and stared at the screen in frustration. “All right, why Mars? It’s a foreign country to Earth these days here. I thought.”  
  
Elia groaned and squeezed her gloved hands before moving to sit. “Allow me to explain to our comrades, Captain?” The wardroom attended some informality, even in the moment.  
  
“Please do. Not everyone has the same background. While you do, I need to send some urgent follow-up messages. The now very urgent risk is that the Alliance has harboured the planners of this attack, unintentionally.”  
  
Elia grimaced, feeling the worries and confusion around her. “Of course, Captain.” As Zhen’var left, she looked around at her colleagues. “Comrades, Mars was granted independence at the point of the bayonet, in the immediate aftermath of the Civil War. But the independence is incomplete. Several critical services are managed through Earth. Technically in fact Mars only has representation in the ISA, it relies on the ISA for foreign representation.”  
  
“And one of these services is the Psi-Corps, Elia?” Abebech looked down, having remained standing. She was as composed as Ca’elia.  
  
“...Yes,” Elia said after a frustrated pause. She knew Abebech was a telepath, couldn’t prove it, wasn’t her business necessarily, but she wanted some support as she thought of the civilians who would have been inevitably swept up in the attack on the installation. Like, basically all of them…  
  
“So, an attack on Psi-Corps on Mars.” Jonathan Goodenough fiddled his fingers. “A weak point in their campaign against the Corps? The government has the power to disband it, might be more receptive?”  
  
“It’s possible,” Nah’dur kicked her feet onto a chair, and looked back and forth between the door and the replicator, unable to decide if she wanted to give up sleeping or immediately return to bed. “Go where control over telepaths is weakest, where opposition to the Corps exists because it’s seen as ‘Earth’, hit it hard there. Except, there’s a lot of Martian civilian casualties, so why would anyone be well-inclined toward telepaths after the attack? Something about this doesn’t make sense.”  
  
“Psi-Corps is more than a government department,” Elia replied, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s a culture, a home, a people, with their own language, their own culture, their own standards. I wouldn’t, you know, we don’t talk about it, but these gloves, I could no more take them off than an observant Muslimah take off her headscarf. So Psi-Corps invested heavily in retaining its influence on Mars, because Marsie telepaths are still telepaths. They’re closer to the rest of us than to other Marsies.”  
  
“This entire thing is a set-up, El’sau,” Nah’dur said, using the Dilgar-form of Elia’s name and yawning. “I’m just not sure who’s behind it yet. We’ll get our orders soon?”  
  
“I imagine so, Surgeon-Commander,” Abebech said. “But they might well involve remaining in place and doing nothing. In fact, I am almost certain of that. We would need a request from the Martian government… And even then, the EA would push back.”  
  
“And they might accuse of us of doing it anyway, it appears,” Fera’Xero added.  
  
“Quite. Oh, in fact, certainly,” Abebech elaborated. “The Byron Free Colony opens us to the charge if we are correct. Ah well. Comrades, I suggest you all get some sleep, we will have duties tomorrow.”  
  
The Department Heads and senior officers filed out, slowly, until it was just Elia and Abebech left. Elia looked steadily at Abebech, at the foreign woman from S0T5, with her gloves and her glasses. “They’re killing us,” she said softly. “It’s begun.”  
  
“You will find,” Abebech replied with a gentle, sad smile, “that this is a more common store for Espers than you could imagine. If only it were not so.”  
  
Elia closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened them, they confirmed what her senses had already told her. Abebech was gone, and she kept a tight lock on her own mind that it was usually like she wasn’t really there. Elia was alone. So very, very alone. Stretching her hands, she got up, unable to even think about sleeping, and wandered out to find Va’tor. She needed someone.  
  
  
  
  
  
The Chai came out of the replicator to the side of the great painting of Captain Grau. It was as hot and delicious as one could ask for, as good as anything Zhen’var could remember from a Chaiwalla back in Mangaluru as a child. She understood nothing of the snobbery of some folks about replicator rations. Earthforce’s had taught her to love the convenience and variety now at her fingertips, even as her body still adjusted to the diet Nah’dur had given her.  
  
As she reached her desk, the workstation pinged an income message on the priority secure channel. Her reports to headquarters had been taken seriously, and urgently. She let out a soft sigh as she reached for the teacup, tapping the acceptance button with her other hand. Stimulants this time of ship’s day were quite necessary for what promised to be a very intense conversation.  
  
“Captain Zhen’var,” a man in Gersallian civilian dress meeted her. “I’m Feraiju, the Admiralty Foreign Ministry Liason. Thank you for your very prompt report. The government of the Earth Alliance had revealed nothing and we were uncertain of how widely this was being reported by Geneva until you confirmed it was actually being broadcast galactically.”  
  
“I do not believe in assuming my superiors have information in my possession unless they have already indicated so. It is my belief based upon personal experience, that this may prove a matter of political crises that will drag in the Alliance for any of several reasons as enumerated in my report.” Taking a sip of her tea, she focused on the screen. “Mars has a very complex relationship with Earthgov. The Psi Corps even more so.”  
  
“That is quite…” Feraiju shook his head wryly. “I understand, Captain, that the closest equivalent anyone has been able to find is the Irish Free State between 1922 - 1931, amongst human examples.”  
  
“An understatement, yes. I do not expect the situation to go predictably, nor calmly. I have briefed my senior officers, and we are standing ready for any of the multitude of possibilities.”  
  
“Nothing at the moment, you will receive any directives from your chain of command when they are decided, Captain. However, I can tell you that there are problems on Mars as a result of the damage that are serious enough that Marsies are actually seeking temporary shelter elsewhere in Earthspace. This is apparently quite irregular and the reason for these temporary refugees, the kind of damage Mars has suffered, has not been made clear. We’re seeking out permission to provide aid to the Mars government, and you will be updated on that. They key thing right now is that the Earth Alliance is actually refusing requests to grant temporary shelter.”  
  
“I can understand why they would not do so. The gravity issue would loom high over any refugees, Luna has always been loyalist by comparison to Mars, and public opinion on Earth is not exactly pro-Mars, it has not been since the Minbari War. As to the irregularity and damage… There were always rumours about black sites on Mars, but I can’t see why anyone would attack an old weapons depot with that level of collateral damage at risk.”  
  
“There is much about the attack which is not at all clear yet. Has the Director of EAI withdrawn, or is there any other indication the private talks have been cancelled?”  
  
“He withdrew for consultations with his government. I expect talks to resume in approximately four hours, but in this situation, I would not expect a great deal from them.”  
  
“Understood, Captain. Hold the line on the fact that we freely accept telepath immigration. I find it interesting that the Director has not seen the situation as one meriting his return to Geneva. Of course, terrorism is intolerable and unacceptable.”  
  
“It is rather more complex…” She trailed off, and shook her head. “I understand my instructions and shall carry them out. I will request reports to support the position that we are attempting to prevent any such crimes, in the event they attempt an ambush with their own reports.”  
  
“Understood. They will be prepared, Captain. You can expect to hear more details in the morning from your chain of command, and I will report on our conversation to the Foreign Ministry and attempt to continue coordination with the appropriate contacts from the EA, ISA and Martian Government. I believe that’s all, Captain.”


	3. Act 2

**Act 2**  
  
  
  
The next morning, despite everything, the  _Charybdis_ requested permission for the negotiating team to return. Quickly given, Zhen’var had the opportunity now to assemble a proper team in the suite and await Director O’Leary’s arrival with Ari’shan.  
  
She was already slowly pacing after last night’s conversation and the lack of sleep after it, turning to glance at the others in the room after each circuit. Her friend, Elia Saumarez, the keen wit of the ship’s surgeon, Ari’shan himself, Lieutenant Seldayiv for her training in interpersonal negotiations, and from the  _Heersman_ , Jonathan Goodenough. It was a real team this time, and it would hopefully be good enough.  
  
“Excellency, did you have time to read the briefing file I sent you this morning?”  
  
“Ah yes, I did,” Ari’shan smiled. “I learned to actually read briefing files a very long time ago. It’s quite unfortunate,” his expression turned serious, “what’s happened on Mars. I’m surprised Francis wasn’t called back to Earth for it, in fact.”  
  
“That, Governor Ari’shan, is actually a matter of some concern to myself, along with several of my officers. We  _might_  have had such problems with Rohric in the distant future, if not for what happened, but Mars… something is not as it seems.”  
  
“I agree that you’re right about the nature of this attack. It doesn’t fit with the Earth-Mars conflict,” Ari’shan answered. “At all.”  
  
“It’s a Signature Attack,” Nah’dur said softly. “The damage to other domes is just to demonstrate what their capabilities are. I think it’s only the Psi-Corps attack that matters. I think you need to look at this as a four-body problem: Earth, Psi-Corps, Mars, and the terrorists.”  
  
Elia grew very quiet, her face pensive.  
  
“A four body problem gives me unfortunate memories of West Point. All right, everyone, they will be here in a few minutes. If it is four groups, we  _must_  be cautious, and expect the Earth team to behave unpredictably. The ground of this negotiation is no longer solid.”  
  
Goodenough stepped quietly over to Nah’dur’s side, hands behind his back. “You mean, Surgeon-Commander, that the lack of Earth Alliance casualties means they regard Earth and Psi-Corps as separate?”  
  
“Precisely,” Nah’dur whispered. Then they both stiffened to attention, as the doors opened. Fei’nur was leading Director O’Leary and his team in.  
  
Zhen’var’s face broke into a natural, if reserved, smile as she turned, offering her hand. “Director O’Leary, welcome back. I wish it was under better circumstances, we have seen the ISN broadcast. You have our sympathies for those injured and killed in such a barbaric act.”  
  
“Thank you for your sympathies,” Francis replied, a bit stiffly. “However, most should be directed to the Government of Mars. We are of course concerned about human life on Mars, but the reality is they chose their own direction and in doing so put themselves outside of the umbrella of protection that our intelligence services and military forces could offer to them.”  
  
“Of course, Director O’Leary. Please, make yourselves comfortable. These events clearly add some urgency to our conversations.”  
  
They set, and introductions passed around the table. When they got to Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur, the Director shot her an extended look that hardly passed unnoticed. She returned it levelly, auburn hair framing her calm face. “Director?”  
  
“...Nothing, Surgeon-Commander. Just surprised at the family resemblance.”  
  
“Moving on, Director, we have Commander Jonathan Goodenough, as well as Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv. You met Colonel Fei’nur and Commander Saumarez yesterday.”  
  
“Yes, I did,” he answered, and looked sharply at Saumarez. “You know, Captain, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but it’s considered bad faith for one side to have a telepath present when the other does not.”  
  
“The Mha’dorn are very well represented amongst those who volunteered to serve with the Alliance, Director. Commander Saumarez is my Operations officer, and is present in that capacity.”  
  
Director O’Leary’s level look was not impressed. “Captain Zhen’var, that isn’t the issue. I’m glad that Commander Saumarez is in fact able to be an officer here. I’m sure she is happier than she would have ever been at home. We have issues, but my private opinions on those are not the facts of the matter. Quite frankly, I have a friend who is a telepath, my best friend died saving the life of a telepath who mattered a great deal to him. Personally, in a show of respect to a naval officer, I would accept her word of honour she isn’t using her abilities as an advantage against us.”  
  
Daria looked like she knew what he was going to say next, and the silent expression that she gave to Zhen’var warned her, sucking in her breath…  
  
“...But,” Francis continued, “the reality is that if I went back to Earth and told them--and not telling them isn’t an option--they would discount and discredit the negotiations entirely on the fact that a telepath was physically present in the room, and all that we might have accomplished would be ruined by that fact alone. In the interests of international peace we should accept that reality and act accordingly. I need Commander Saumarez to leave the conference suite.”  
  
Zhen’var  _stiffened_ , her hackles raised, and she was silent for a long several seconds, her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally spoke, voice flatly calm. “The Union of Allied Systems does not presume to accept without negotiation  _dictates_ placed to it by representatives of the Earth Alliance, Director O’Leary.”  
  
“Okay, we’re doing it that way.” Francis rubbed his face. He wasn’t a professional diplomat himself. “Ari? I’d remind you that I came here to talk to  _you._ ”  
  
“Director, you came here to negotiate with the Allied Systems,” Ari replied levelly. “That their culture and laws permit telepaths to sit at their tables as equals is perhaps something…”  
  
“Ari, I know!” Francis was frustrated, showing in red on his broad Irish face. “It isn’t about that. Damnit, we've been friends for years, you know that. It’s about our talks having any kind of credibility at all with the Government.”  
  
“You  _knew_  the Alliance has telepaths in many roles, Director. Why is not there at least a Commercial or Military Division telepath here to make, as the corporations say, a ‘level’ negotiation?” Zhen'var pressed.  
  
“These negotiations were not meant to involve the Corps,” Francis replied, and shot another hard, long stare at Elia, including her gloves. “Ari, just the two of us, please.”  
  
“Your Excellency?” Zhen’var looked to Ari’shan - from her point of view, the question was all-or-nothing. Without  _her_ , the negotiations from the Allied Systems side were on much shakier ground.  
  
“Francis, you taught me too well what human rights mean. No. The telepaths are in the room or we don’t talk.” Ari’shan’s expression was curious, an inner steel flickering in his eyes. "If you won't compromising with the Clarkists still in the government this wouldn't be happening."  
  
“You’re a better man than I am, Ari’shan.” With that, and a weary sigh, Francis got up, and his delegation did as well.  _None_ of them were taking it as well as the Director was, and the intensity of the emotions had Elia pale and drawn. “Talks will only resume when appropriate conditions have been met. We need to return to the  _Charybdis_ at this time.”  
  
“Farewell, Director. Colonel Fei’nur, escort Director O’Leary and his party to their shuttle.” Zhen’var’s expression remained studiously blank. As soon as the hatch closed, she let out a soft sigh. “That was  _bizarre_. Elia, the only way that makes  _any_  sense is if they think you are a foreign agent inside the Alliance…  _and_  that they do not see the Corps as part of Earthgov.” Her expression was  _pained_.  
  
Nah’dur looked around slowly. “This relates to what Commander Goodenough and I were discussing, Captain. The attackers didn’t see the Psi-Corps as part of EarthGov. We just spoke to the Director of EAI, who doesn’t see the Psi-Corps as part of EarthGov.”  
  
“Elia,” Zhen’var began, her voice quiet. “Tell War Captain Kei’tor," she referenced the head of the Mha'dorn. "Your family has  _need to know_ what Director York started is coming to a head. I shall take the court-martial if higher command deems I am exceeding my authority.”  
  
“I spoke with another telepath on Deep Space Nine when I was there. He pressed me to help, but of course I was true to my oaths. Captain, he alluded to it, Markus alluded to it, and now… You are right. I believe that was an attack by the Telepath ‘Resistance’ transitioning into an active guerrilla force.”  
  
“A war,” Goodenough added simply.  
  
“Yes.” Nah’dur stretched and rose. “And I don’t think EarthGov knows what side its on.”  
  
“When it comes to preventing incipient genocide, I know what side  _we_ are on. Warn them, Elia. Commander Goodenough, let Imra know, this is about to get  _much_ more complicated, and likely worse before it gets better.  _If_  it does. The Resistance… forgets why the Corps came into existence in the  _first_  place.”  
  
She looked to Governor Ari’shan.  
  
“Though it is hard to find the statistics, the first year after telepaths were scientifically proven to exist among Earth humanity, between murders and abortions, something like a hundred thousand to a quarter million died.”  
  
Ari’shan’s head jerked. “Hunted down in the street, like a pogrom of the night-furred who had bred with the Dark Dilgar, in the days after the war with the Dark.”  
  
“Yes,” Zhen’var agreed simply.  
  
“The song of my people has been sung in both pain and pride, and the Corps was the place of our pride.” Elia rose, her face ashen. “Do I stand dismissed, Captain?”  
  
“You stand dismissed.”  
  
  
  
  
Elia returned to her quarters and activated a secure channel. Her interaction with the Earth Alliance team had been chilling. Francis O’Leary had been perfectly sincere and his politeness was not a show. He  _really meant_ that he hoped she was well, and thought she would be happier. He wanted to end the Corps, and he wanted to do so out of moral principles. Unfortunately, that meant nothing good for Mother and Father.  
  
She tried to think of how to send the message. It would be easiest if she were in hyperspace, of course. One of the functions of a Military Department Telepath was to communicate over extreme distances in hyperspace, she had been trained in how to do it. She could go up to PriFly and communicate across lightyears. But they were not in hyperspace and that was unlikely to happen soon, which meant using a public network, which meant passing a message that the EAI could likely read.  
  
Except for the fact that she doubted that Markus had been to Deep Space Nine  _just_ to talk to her. She tapped open the extranet connections which integrated with the subspace comms network of the United Federation of Planets, first pulling all of her clothes off above the midriff and pulling on a nondescript black blouse.  
  
The woman who appeared on the screen was vaguely familiar. “Quark’s,” she said. “How can I help you?”  
  
“I’d like to speak to the proprietor, please,” Elia answered with a smile. “Do tell him it’s about a business venture.”  
  
“...A business venture, right. Yes, I can do that! One moment, please.” She disappeared from the feed, and Elia waited.  
  
The wait only lasted a few minutes before Quark arrived, and spent a while staring at her neckline.  
  
“Quark, is it?” Elia pasted the same smile on her face she’d used around mundanes so many times, it certainly helped here.  
  
“Yes. I heard you had a  _business_ deal for me? Miss? I remember you, one of the gloved humans.”  
  
“ _Sausmares,_ ” she said, accentuating the syllables in the old Island Norman French style. “And indeed I do. Do you remember my friend Markus?”  
  
“I  _do._ ” A frown. “I am not a secret agent! Legal repercussions are bad for business…”  
  
“Unless the profit outweighs the risk. Anyway, I’ll be coming back to DS9 soon and I’d  _love_ to see your holosuites… So, I’m quite certain Markus and his associates will pay a  _great deal_ for this information, and it’s about a situation with stock, not some secret agent matter.”  
  
“Stocks are also… How much profit are we talking about?”  
  
“The kind over which countries live and die, Quark,” she gleamed. “Little for passing the message, but much more as the information broker later on. I think Markus’ associates will be very interested in speaking to you. So, here’s the trick. Please tell Markus that ‘ _The Franco-Irishman in charge of Einhart und Annhauser Industries has gone wobbly so it’s time to short-sell on Effingham Aoraki._ ’ And let him know it’s from the girl who pulled Alice’s ponytail in fifth year. That’s it.”  
  
Quark repeated the message several times. Elia stretched a bit and flashed her gloves in a dainty wave. “Got it perfect,” she grinned. “You’re  _awesome._ You were really kind to me on Deep Space Nine. I can’t wait to come back and bring my  _business associates._ ”  
  
Quark eyed the gloves. “I have at least five hundred holosuite programs that could  _feature_ those for you…”  
  
“And I’ll be  _looking forward_ to when I can see them,” she said with a cheery wave, and winked before killing the comm, and sinking back onto her bed. Somehow, doing that with an alien wasn’t actually as bad as dealing with a human with a telepath fetish, but it was probably solely because it wasn’t in person. The shudder was still present.  
  
  
  
  
  
The  _Charybdis_ had left, and for the next day, the  _Huáscar_ had patrolled the frontier as if the entire meeting had not happened. After the major terrorist attack on Mars, it seemed that an immediate recall of a major fleet asset already in the area was not in the cards.  
  
Captain Zhen’var was not expecting the calm to  _hold_ , and she had taken the border patrol as a chance to drill her crews in some of the more esoteric procedures involved in combat search and rescue, with her communications and sensor sections kept on wartime cruising conditions for any scrap of information that might yet come in.  
  
It was like as not no surprise when Will asked her to come to the bridge at about 0400, shortly after she had woken up and before her own shift started. “Captain, we’ve detected a warp signature across the line in EA space.”  
  
“A  _warp_  signature? Move us to Condition Two as a precaution. I am on the way.” She slapped the comm unit and moved to the replicator for a spill-proof mug of chai.  _That means an extra-universal ship, likely, or a free trader. Either way… this does not bode well._  
  
On the bridge, Ensign Joanne Wilkins was at the helm, Will rose from the command chair, Elia’s Gersallian second-in-command Lieutenant Orallian was at Ops. The rest of the stations were staffed with noncoms or warrants, but that would change quickly even at Condition Two -- Will had recognised what she had meant, and acted accordingly, even if it wasn’t actually the language used by the UAS, it was  _his,_ too, and that of most of the senior crew in fact.  
  
“I have the deck, you retain the conn. Hail them.” She had a habit of leaving the junior deck officer in command of the helm, freeing herself to wrestle with other problems… like this.  
  
“We’ve resolved the warp signature,” Will said after their exchange of command was completed, walking over to Orallian’s post at ops as the Lieutenant brought up the long-range scans. “It’s a fairly typical Independent trader from S4W8 registered the  _Star of Carissa,_ making Warp Factor Five. They originated from Earth, or one of the straight-shot jump-gates.”  
  
“Keep up scanning for other ships in the area.” Zhen’var pressed the intercom button on the side of her chair. “Engineering, this is the Captain. Warning orders, I may ask you for full speed on short notice.”  
  
Anna had already reached her post. “Full power at your orders, Captain.”  
  
“Thank you, Engines, very well anticipated. Communications, any response to our hail as yet?”  
  
“Getting one now, Captain… On bridge speaker?”  
  
She gave a single nod, and forced herself to lean back in the captain’s chair.  _This is somehow going to make my life much harder._  
  
“Alliance Vessel  _Huáscar,_ this is the  _Star of Clarissa._ We are carrying refugees from Mars, two hundred and five souls, under contract. Will we be allowed to cross the frontier?”  
  
“Yes. You shall slow to relativistic speed and prepare to be boarded for inspection and questioning after crossing the border. Is that understood,  _Star of Clarissa_?”  
  
“We confirm,  _Huáscar.._ ” The message trailed off into static.  
  
“Captain,” Orallian reported from his post, Elia having arrived and standing by, but not interrupting, “jump-point forming right ahead of the  _Star of Clarissa._ ”  
  
“Let me guess, they are being jammed… compare with the Earthforce standard jammers in the EW database, please.”  
  
“Fera’xero, take it,” Elia directed, moving to assume the ops console.  
  
“Confirmed, late-series refit Hyperion type Back Top set, Captain.”  
  
“Of course.” Her voice sounded quite resigned as she flipped up a protective cover on her control panel and delicately pressed a demi-claw into the single red button there.  
  
“BATTLESTATIONS! ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLESTATIONS! SET MATERIAL CONDITION ZEBRA THROUGHOUT THE SHIP! BATTLESTATIONS!” It was Elia’s voice as the Operations Officer that tore through the ship, unlike the old days of having a senior NCO on the bridge do it, but otherwise it was right enough, and the  _Huáscar,_ already standing at Code or Condition Yellow, came forward smartly enough.  
  
“The Hyperion is broadcasting her peacetime IFF, Captain,” Fera’xero reported a moment later. “She’s brought the  _Star of Clarissa_ to a halt point-oh-five parsec from the buoy-marked line of demarcation. EAS  _Nerissa._ ”  
  
“She knows very well we can do nothing, but we can at least protest. Hail her, query her intentions with an  _Alliance_  freighter outbound to  _our_  space.”  
  
A new channel shortly opened in response to the hail and inquiry. “Lieutenant Velarro, EAS  _Nerissa_ to ASV  _Huáscar._ Stay on your side of the line of demarcation, I repeat, stay on your side of the line of demarcation.”  
  
“Captain Zhen’var. Repeat,  _Nerissa, state your intentions_  with an  _Alliance_  flagged freighter  _outbound_  to  _Alliance_  space.”  
  
“Stay on your side of the line of demarcation,  _Huáscar._ We are exercising our sovereign rights within Earth space.”  
  
“Move us to right up to the border, XO.  _Nerissa_ , we request clarification of precisely  _what_  rights you are exercising.”  
  
A different voice came on the feed, but didn’t identify itself. “ _Huáscar,_ the  _Star of Clarissa_ was engaged in passenger trade within Earth-space while only bearing permits for the transport of dry goods.”  
  
Will was quietly moving them right onto the demarcation line by impulse and then thrusters, but couldn’t resist a sardonic look and shake of his head.  
  
“Forgive me, I was unaware that the carriage of refugees intending to claim a right to remain was passenger transport. Has the Earth Alliance changed the relevant laws,  _Nerissa_?” The entire ship held at the line, like a runner waiting only for the starting gun.  
  
“The Marsies want to go back when the situation is dealt with, they’re passengers taking a vacation, not refugees seeking asylum.”  
  
“If they loaded from  _Mars_ , are they not an in-transit vessel through your space, that with no touching at a starport, never passes through Earth Alliance customs?” It was somewhat unfair, having a former Earthforce officer to remember the legal handbook.  
  
“Kitty, why the hell do you even want them? Do you think your masters will let you play with them?” It was pure, speciesist baiting, and baiting was exactly the reason for it. Get the other side to cross the border first…  
  
“Sir,” Elia said after cutting the pick-up momentarily, “they haven’t actually boarded the  _Star of Clarissa_ yet. You have them.”  
  
Zhen’var gave a nod, and her lips pulled back in a smile. “I hope so, we  _have_ rather run out of catnip.” She  _could_  respond to venom with biting humour, and not let the baiting affect her in the slightest.  
  
“This is Captain Lamarck,” a third, definitely female voice came over the comms. “Have all the Marsies you want. The  _Star of Clarissa_ is permanently banned from Earth-space.” With that, the  _Nerissa_ turned on her thrusters and pulled clear of the space between the freighter and the border.  
  
  
  
  
  
The conference room was quickly full, since it included all of the department heads. Lieutenant Violeta Arterria, the commander of the navigation section, was rubbing her face and studying a readout covering information on the galaxy. Nah’dur stretched and started munching on a plate of sugar-glazed meat sticks. Anna was sitting across from her, Fei’nur was fussing with the replicator, and Abebech sat at the Captain’s right-hand side with her legs crossed and her seat kicked back, Fera’Xero studying intently to try and figure out how she had managed to prop it up. They were all still getting used to each other.  
  
Zhen’var considered the extreme diversity of her people as she entered, holding her hand to forestall them from rising. “No, at ease.” Then she moved to sit, and immediately began. “It appears to be worse than we expected, everyone. Earthforce is throwing their weight around, and has already banned  _Star of Clarissa_  from their space. They’ve put out a Notice to Spacers that the same will apply to anyone else who transports Mars citizens without the proper paperwork. This is going to have a chilling effect, at the least, and  _non_ -Alliance ships are being turned  _back._ ”  
  
“So we’ve got an enemy… Err.. A nation that’s hindering the access of refugees to shelter,” Violeta said. “They’re actively blocking us from helping. And we haven’t received any orders, Captain?”  
  
“I have been updating higher command, but our orders have not yet been changed from border patrol. Legally, there is little we can do to interfere inside Earth Alliance space, I fear.”  
  
Nah’dur stretched again. “Well, Captain, we’ve brought the refugees from the  _Star of Clarissa_ onboard. Except for a few with injuries, we’re just going to out-process them back aboard for the trip deeper into our space. I’m sure the  _Star_ will be re-named and reflagged and traveling back to Earth in no time at all! For the most part they were in good health, and apparently the concern is an overall bulk oxygen shortage on Mars due to several cracking plants being knocked out.”  
  
“To dome-dwellers, an oxygen shortage… that explains the panic and the flight anywhere they could get tickets off-world. Luna will not take them, and Mars-born cannot handle Earth gravity well, if they even could get through, but it will cause even more anti-Earth unrest, this is a  _blockade_  of an independent state.”  
  
“So how do we  _help_ them? You’re right, this  _is_ a blockade,” Anna sighed.  
  
“Move the mountain to Mohammad,” Abebech murmured.  
  
Nah’dur, who had certainly had plenty of access to human culture from her mother, flared her eyelids. “In a pinch we can hold twenty thousands, and we can send repair parties for the cracking towers. We can go  _to_ Mars!”  
  
“How would  _we_ go through Earth space when they are stopping civilian ships?” Fera’xero asked.  
  
“Oh, that’s easy. Passage from one point in your own territory to one point in the territory of a third party, through the second power, is innocent passage and protected even for warships under the laws of nations,” Daria perked up from where she’d been quiet at the end of the table.  
  
“Perhaps it’s time for a freedom of navigation exercise,” Abebech smiled thinly to Zhen’var.  
  
“If you start blasting rock music at the Earthforce ships, I shall claim I do not know you.” Her expression was… pained, if there was a smile. “I will urgently request permission from higher command to cross the border… if a Martian request is made, which I shall recommend should be  _solicited_.”  
  
“Shall I assume  _Heermann_ will un-dock to proceed in concert?”  
  
“Not yet, but I do not expect that to last long after arrival.”  
  
“...Rock music?” Nah’dur was looking at Abebech and Zhen’var.  
  
  
  
  
  
Zhen’var gratefully took a sip from her mug of tea as she gratefully sank into her desk chair with a soft sigh, reaching out with a hand for the keypad at her desk. Tapping through the comms menu, she sent a request for communication to Portland - accepting the queue time before anyone would answer, and starting to work at the never-ending tide of paperwork that all Captains were cursed with.  
  
This time, the response was routed directly to the Admiralty, and came through with relatively high priority. As her operational commander, it was Maran who answered, too. “Captain Zhen’var. My staff had received and was processing your reports.”  
  
“Thank you, Admiral. I wish to request your permission to proceed to Mars if a request is received from the Martian government. I believe the situation is dire enough to risk the diplomatic conflict, and furthermore, I believe something is…  _wrong_  on Mars, above what ISN is reporting. There is too much panic on the Mars-side.”  
  
“You believe there is something else going on with the situation on Mars, in fact?” Maran asked.  
  
“There have been dome breaches before, but this did not cause the sort of panic leading to flight off-world that we see now.”  
  
“It’s outside of the character of the people, in a way that makes it automatically suspicious?”  
  
“The Mars-dwellers, Mars-born especially, are a stubborn lot. Nothing Earth could do to them would crack their love of their homeworld - several oxygen plants being knocked out is one thing, but from my experience, that should have caused unrest, but not  _this_  much, if you will permit personal inference, Admiral.”  
  
“I trust your judgement on the matter. As it happens, we have already received a request for assistance via Babylon 5. Therefore, you are granted permission to proceed with all dispatch. We must uphold the legality of passage to Mars, in addition to the humanitarian concerns.”  
  
“Understood, Admiral. Are there any changes to standing orders?” She felt a jolt down her spine - a Freedom of Navigation exercise through Earth Alliance space? This was going to be…  _exciting_.  
  
“There are no changes to standing orders, Captain. Get to Mars-sphere as fast as you can. Good luck to  _Huáscar._ ”  
  
Zhen’var nodded. “Of course, Admiral.” As soon as the screen blinked off, she sighed and closed her eyes.  _And once more unto the breach… against those who were once my comrades._  
  
“Bridge, this is Captain Zhen’var. Maintain Condition Two, set course for Mars. All ahead full. I will brief the crew once I have made it up there.”  _And so the Dilgar will finally see Sol… in quite a different light than they once might have._  
  
Even while she was walking, the  _Huáscar_ crisply spun up her engines and crossed the border, surging with power below her feet. They were headed in.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
During the first day, the  _Huáscar_ did not face interception as she made Warp 8, avoiding systems in favour of warping her way in. The Earth Alliance had peaked at  _official_ control of 43 Planetary systems and 9 non-planetary systems with jump-gates, including twenty-two habitable planets outside of Earth. This peak had been obtained since the annexation of three of the four systems in Markab space (the Descari having successfully seized the fourth). Various revelations since then had covered a bevy of secret worlds, including at least one which was naturally fully habitable.  
  
While this did not sound large, the jump-gate system and the limitations of hyperroutes meant that in practice the space this territory covered was vast and uneven. As it was, the former Darglan space, long cut off from good hyperroutes and jump-gates, actually lay very close to Earth. It would require only 28 hours for the  _Huáscar_ to reach Earth at Warp 8 from the frontier.  
  
On her morning tour of the ship, Zhen’var found a holo-board set up in PriFly. Stasia Héen was leaning over it, entering commands to shift shuttles as the rest of her crew, including a couple of Ensigns that actually reported to her despite her being a W-series, worked on simulating strike generation.  
  
“Captain on the Deck!”  
  
They began to straighten, but Stasia’s cool, slightly accented voice cut the motion off instantly. “Do not interrupt flight operations.” Even in a simulation, that was a critical lesson everyone in the new crew had to learn quickly.  
  
“Save standing-to for when we are not at Condition Two, everyone.” Zhen’var kept her voice low, and hung back from the teams around the holo-board until they’d finished the simulation, watching the movements with the eye of a woman trying to learn as quickly as she could.  
  
When they finished, Stasia looked up, her express casually mirthful and her hand never far from her coffee mug. “Captain.” With an oval face, dark eyes and brown hair her ethnicity was indistinct but clearly not quite white; coming from the  _Aurora,_ she’d taken advantage of the loose grooming standards there to show a few traditional Tlingit touches. “The good news is that we know what we’re doing, in principle. The bad news is that with full rescue and recovery operations using every shuttle and troop transport we have, welcome to it taking seventy minutes to fuel, arm, spot, and launch a strike. The ship simply compromises too much to be a true carrier. Ma’am.”  
  
“They tried to make her do everything, and she is mistress of nothing, you mean. Much like the  _Omega_ , I would say. Do the best you can, we will be  _intensely_ hard-pressed over Mars, no matter how good or ill this goes.”  
  
“Understood, Captain.” She was about to turn to something and speak to the Captain about it when alarms flared.  
  
Zhen’var looked to the repeaters, instantly all business as she checked the situation. “Let me guess, Earthforce is here…?”  
  
“Jump-points forming to port and starboard right ahead, Captain -- but we’re at Warp Eight so we’re already past them…” The alarms trilled again.  
  
“...Or not.” Stasia shifted the view. It showed two of the already ugly Nova-Omegas, Novas rebuilt with artificial gravity, which had now had a cruciform of warp nacelles mounted on them to keep their gun arcs clear. Around them, the  _Huáscar_ ’s alarms began to sound for Condition One--Condition Red to the Alliance--as what were essentially the two most ugly ships ever put into regular commission began to close with her on either beam.  
  
“Put the Wing on Alert Five, Chief, I need to get to the bridge before the blast doors seal.” Her expression set firmly, Zhen’var turned to depart at a jog.  
  
Stasia shouted into her mic. “ALERT FIVE, Do it! Get me Wing Commander Lar’shan and confirm his pilots understand it. ALERT FIVE.”  
  
Zhen’var reached the bridge just in time. Elia had brought the ship to stations of her own initiative and Will had reached Reserve Nav a minute before. “Captain on the Bridge!”  
  
Elia spun and saluted. “Two Earth Alliance Dreadnoughts holding formation at Warp Eight each one hundred kiloklicks off our beams.”  
  
“Well, let us be polite. Comms, inquire as to their intentions and provide them our near-term course, we do not want an excuse for collision, after all.” She had a smile, as she moved to strap herself in to her command chair.  
  
“Aye-aye, Sir,” the Dilgar CPO at comms activated the ship to ship channel and read off their course, making the request of intentions.  
  
Elia sheepishly returned to the chair at Zhen’var’s right and strapped herself in. Lieutenant Veronica Richards was at Ops. “Maintain course and heading,” she ordered, acutely aware that she still had the conn.  
  
“I have the deck. Remember, we have every right to be here, and they have every right to offend any sane person’s sense of aesthetics. No, we do not need them on screen.” Keeping a light attitude, for now, could avoid stress that leads to mistakes, to Zhen’var.  
  
“Captain,” the CPO at comms--his name was Bor’erj--looked over wearily. “They’re insisting we come about immediately and withdraw from Earth Alliance territory.”  
  
Elia unbuckled herself again and went to ops to relieve Veronica now that she no longer had the deck.  
  
“Give me the channel, no change in course or posture.” She paused, waiting for the light to illuminate on her control panel that indicated she had the channel. “This is Captain Zhen’var of the  _Huáscar_ , to whom do I have the privilege of speaking today?”  
  
“This is Captain Ivan Mashkenov, EAS  _Thaumas._ Captain Varma, treason has prospered, I see. Heave-to and take that cruiser out of our space. You in general and particular are not welcome here.”  
  
“We are engaged in innocent passage through Earth Alliance space, Captain Mashkenov, starting and ending our journey at points not under the jurisdiction of the government in Geneva. I am unable and unwilling to comply.” Her expression stayed calm, though her demi-claws had pressed into the small stone strips she’d added to her command chair, to protect the finish until she developed the instinctual control a Dilgar usually learned over her claws in childhood.  
  
“Accidents can happen in crowded space, Captain.”  
  
As he spoke, Elia tensed. She thumbed the tactical interlock -- every member of the bridge crew had the ability to cut off the feed so that important messages couldn’t be overheard by the enemy -- “They have turned in toward us and increased speed to eight-point-one, Captain, they’re making to cut us off with their warp bubbles.” This was recklessly dangerous, it was clear they had little experience handling ships at warp speed.  
  
“Conn, free helm. Manoeuvre as needed to avoid the  _reckless idiot_. Cut off our course feed.” She kept her expression calm, as she pressed a button marked  _klaxon_  five times… into the open comm feed.  
  
“Aye-aye, Sir.” Violeta grinned tautly as she began to punch in helm commands and alter the warp geometry to shift course. The  _Huáscar_ turned down, and toward starboard. As the Novas began to manoeuvre to stay interposed, she  _skewed_ the bow sharply to port.  
  
“Eight kiloklicks and closing, Captain,” Lieutenant tr'Rllaillieu sang out. With the screen off, the bridge crew couldn’t see it, though PriFly certainly had a bird’s eye holographic view of the warp bubble indicators creeping closer.  
  
“Bring up tactical display. Bridge to Engineering, we have some idiots in Nova-Refits trying to play tag at Warp Eight.”  
  
Daria activated the tactical display, showing the situation as the  _Huáscar_ was skewing to port and the Novas were now almost interposing as they swung back hard to keep ahead.  
  
“You can have Warp Nine at your pleasure, Captain,” Anna’s voice came back. “I’d rather not bump something twice our mass.”  
  
“Conn, you heard the woman, bells at your pleasure. Operations… do sound collision in case they do something  _very_  stupid, please.” Now Zhen’var was starting to feel a  _bit_  of tension she ruthlessly suppressed any external sign of. Inexperience and arrogance was always a  _dangerous_  mixture.  
  
“Aye-aye, Captain.” Violeta bucked the ship ‘down’ relative to the dreadnoughts hard, and then brought her velocity up.  
  
“Four kiloklicks… Three kiloklicks,” Arterus kept singing out.  
  
Elia flashed a nervous grin. But Violeta was all concentration, bringing them up to Warp Nine, and then sharply levelling out. As they accelerated, they suddenly snapped away like a projectile.  
  
“Twelve… Twenty.” A palatable relief surged through the bridge.  
  
Zhen’var would not let herself share it until she was sure the Earthforce ships did not have any reserves of speed, but once she was, she’d wave her hand. “Secure from collision stations. Excellent work, helm. Maintain course and speed, sensors, watch for any more ships seeking to intercept, those Novas will certainly send word ahead.”  
  
“Understood, Captain.” Confirmations chorused.  
  
Elia rose, and stepped down to her Captain’s side. “Final analysis, Captain, is that they’re fully shielded and engines have been substantially upgraded, but the warp drives reduce their manoeuvring to that of an ore barge, and they peaked at Warp 8.9 trying to pursue us.”  
  
“Send that with our next intelligence update to Portland, please. I would prefer not to have to ever engage them, however. Dilgar have a long-standing aversion to Novas.”  
  
  
  
  
  
After the excitement--and the General Quarters alarms--had faded away and the ship’s alarm had sounded the all-clear, Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur had decided to finally go get breakfast. She went to the mess, selected a large platter of Indian-style  _seekh kebab,_ in her continuing effort to understand her sister’s and other-mother’s culture through her stomach.  _Seekh kebab_ was the easiest part to understand.  
  
Her eyes widened when she saw Fei’nur had just sat down at a table with her own breakfast, and she promptly dashed over and moved to slide into the booth alongside her. “Good morning, Battlemaster.”  
  
Fei’nur gave the younger Dilgar a wary look for a moment, before nodding and forcing a smile. “Good morning, Surgeon-Commander. More human meat dishes to try?” Her own plate had what seemed to be a series of plastic skewers with a variety of meats grilled on them - what would have been Ogkarin street food, for the middle and bureaucratic classes.  
  
“They had almost as many as we did, despite being omnivores,” Nah’dur answered, and snuggled in a little, reaching for her thermos of  _viri,_ stimulant tea. “So how many classic kinds of Ogkharin food have been successfully programmed into the replicators?”  
  
“Forty-seven. We’re working on doubling it, but there’s… the problem of nobody being able to agree on exactly  _what_  some of the things tasted like, especially regional or specialty dishes. We’ve got a lot more  _noble_  dishes in there, but people like me? Nobody really saved the proper taste of a fried G’sha wing.”  
  
“I think the best strategy would be to keep altering until each person thinks they taste correct who remembers the taste. Then someone who disagrees can just cycle through the options until they get to one they agree with. It may never be exactly right, but the library of recipes would at least be there for people to enjoy, experiment, debate, centuries from now.” Nah’dur curled her lips back, leaning as she ate her kebabs.  
  
“That seems to be the only option, really. Though most of us just want to remember what the shack on the way home sold! It… we’ll never have Omelos again, but too many of us  _remember_ it.”  
  
“We  _will,_ a little. We’re going to build domes over the monuments that still stand. We’ll settle the world, and it will be a symbol of our pride in the Multiverse, Fei’nur. I’m sure of it.” She tried to be encouraging.  
  
“Perhaps. And now we’re going to Earth… only one Dilgar’s seen it, you know. I can’t talk  _too_  much about it, but we had…  _one_  soldier make it to Earth. The fleet that the Warmaster sent, that vanished without trace.”  
  
“It’s going to be strange. Can you imagine?” She switched into a lower, softer tone. ”The five cheers? The Thoruns being armed with bombs? The feeling that we are about to win? And now… Here we are. Three hours out and running hard.”  
  
“We never had that feeling after the humans came over the border to Markab, Nah’dur.  _Never_. We never had hope we had a chance until Balos.” Ghosts of the past danced in the old commando’s eyes.  
  
“Last night I dreamt that the Darglan homeworld had been accessible to us. It was a nice dream. Forty systems… We wouldn’t have had to fight if we had been so rich.”  
  
“We would have. But it wouldn’t… have been the same. Our leaders wouldn’t have been as hard-pressed as they were. We couldn’t admit weakness with the Drazi there… so the die was cast when the exploration efforts failed. Conquer or perish… and we failed. Dream, Nah’dur.  _Please_ , dream, and  _seize_  those dreams.”  
  
“I will, Fei’nur. But I hope that you have some dreams left, too.” She leaned in and nuzzled at Fei’nur’s arm, very briefly, though the gesture only intended to reflect the closeness of a girl who had been partly raised by her mother’s bodyguard, not the more complicated feelings she felt for the Spectre.  
  
“I keep them  _very_ close, Nah’dur. Fate, and this multiverse we live in has been very cruel to my dreams.” There was a wistfulness in her voice, as she gently rested a hand on the doctor’s cheek for a moment.  
  
Nah’dur smiled, and gently separated when Fei’nur removed her hand. “Well, today we get to stand tall. Humans in Sol are asking  _us_ for  _help._  It is the irony of the ages.”  
  
“Mars, not Earth. They are divided, and at each other’s throats. If we’d known then, what we do now… perhaps it would have gone differently. Perhaps.” Fei'nur fell silent; she didn't want to talk about the ghosts of the war anymore. Those silent lines of ghosts, which always made her wonder why she had survived, when more than a thousand like her, by numbers, had died, for each survivor... She shook her head, and smiled fondly at Nah'dur, and privately, was grateful for what she represented.  _If only..._


	4. Act 3

**Act 3**

 

  
  
Zhen’var had agreed with a suggestion by Will to slow the ship to allow everyone to finish lunch before arriving in Sol. It was quite possible that they would not have the opportunity otherwise if they were forced into combat, and the potential consequences of an exhausted crew so deep in Earth Space were not pleasant to think about if they were to be sorely tried. So it was that four hours after breakfast on the  _Huáscar,_ they began to approach at Warp 6. The system was a howl of activity around them as they did, with alarms, warnings, and mobilisation orders flashing from base to base, planet to planet.  
  
“I believe, by the number of Earthforce ships swarming about, they think we are launching a one-ship invasion. Tactical, give me a sensor picture.”  
  
The tactical picture blinked into existence as Daria brought up the system image. “Captain, it strongly appears that there are energy signatures of weapons firing immediately outside of Mars sphere, in a position congruent with IFFs for a contingent of Earthforce warships.”  
  
“I want more information than that, give me high-resolution. I need to know  _what_  they are firing at and  _why_ , Guns.”  
  
“Two minutes to Mars sphere,” Arterus called out.  
  
Daria bent at her console with a twisted bit of a grimace as she tried to resolve the sensor picture, Elia’s ops console shooting her a full spectrum analysis to interpret. “They’re firing warning shots across the bows of a group of eleven small civilian merchants trying to leave Mars-space, Captain. Most have hauled out, but a group of two are proceeding onwards. One is a Solarian Republic ship, one is showing the IFF codes for Baker’s Dozen in S5T3.”  
  
“Hail the merchants, ask if they need assistance… and move us in. Weapons cold, please, I am not going to give Earthforce an excuse to start shooting. Divine knows that has happened enough times in this galaxy. Call the crew to stations. Bridge to  _Heerman_ , I may need to detach you to present a multi-body problem if this starts degenerating. Stand to, please.”  
  
“We are at Ready Ten, Captain, I am moving to Ready Five,” Imra reported back. They used Ready for the  _Heerman_ and Alert for the fighters to avoid confusion.  
  
“Weapons cold,” Daria confirmed, stiff-backed after the implicit rebuke Zhen’var had given her.  
  
“Dropping out of warp…” Violeta warned, as the star-field shifted before them and the  _Huáscar_ surged into position by the transports. The Earthforce squadron was already pulling away from the transports and positioning itself to engage the  _Huáscar_ in a direction from which they would not be cut off by the great Alliance ship.  
  
“This is the ASV  _Huáscar_ to Earthforce ships, what seems to be the problem?” Zhen’var expressed such friendly openness in her voice, it  _almost_  belied that the words were coming from Dilgar lips.  
  
“This is Admiral Jason Fernandez, Earthforce. Captain Zhen’var, withdraw back into the technical 0.5-AU limit of Mars Sphere immediately. We are preventing the violation of our territorial integrity by uninspected elements, nothing more.” The attempts to board or turn aside the transports had, however, completely ceased.  
  
“I have the second freighter on comms,” Lieutenant Tor’jar was at the comms post now, one of the senior officers at communication. The male Dilgar looked across the bridge, briefly overriding the audio feed. “It identifies itself as the  _Star Newburg_ out of Baker’s World and in irons after delivering cargo to Earth. They say they took one hundred and eighty Martians seeking safety onboard.”  
  
“Inform the  _Star Newburg_  that we are willing to take the Martians aboard to permit their departure. Solarian freighter?” She pressed her comms button. “Stand-by, Admiral Fernandez, we are preparing to withdraw to Mars orbit.”  
  
“Understood, Captain,” his voice came back. Zhen’var could distantly remember the man, a very Americanized Hispanic gentleman who had been a loyalist in the Civil War. Unlike the others, he didn’t resort to baiting or unpleasantries, and one could almost detect a hint of relief that the  _Huáscar’s_ arrival had presented him with a legitimate distraction from the duty of his squadron.  
  
Tor’jar spoke again. “Captain,  _Elaria_ confirms two hundred and seven refugees aboard. Also requests transport.”  
  
“We can do both in two minutes flat with all the emergency transporters on-line, Captain,” Elia said from ops, tapping the beam-up plan into action and holding it ready.  
  
“Maximum safe rate with a healthy margin for error, Commander.  _Heerman,_ it is my intention to keep you clear of refugees to preserve your freedom of action, I expect it is going to get quite crowded aboard, very quickly. Engineering, I want a volunteer team for beam-down, the sooner we reduce this pressure pushing the Martians off-planet, the less tense this entire situation shall be. And make sure to include forensics evidence, intelligence will want all the data on these terrorists we can get” She took a breath. “Admiral Fernandez, we are taking the Martians aboard, that should allow you to clear the two outbound ships by restoring their compliance with their inspected manifests, correct?”  
  
“I will accept that interpretation,” Admiral Fernandez replied. “Proceed with your operation and when the life-scanners record correct numbers the freighters will be permitted to proceed.”  
  
“The other freighters have retreated into Mars orbit already since they were halted further back,” Elia noted. “I’m beginning beam-outs now.”  
  
“ _Heermann_ should be launched as soon as we are in Mars orbit, Captain,” Imra advised over the channel. “The bay can be sealed and used as additional emergency shelter space.”  
  
“Agreed. Welcome back to semi-independent command, Captain. As I said, I expect to be hard-pressed here. Divine willing, it we won’t be down to cramming your bay full of Martians.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Nah’dur thought that, in general, the ship’s “humanitarian” relief role was one of its more interesting functions. She was excited to actually get to test it. It also challenged her as Surgeon-Commander in a way a conventional Doctor might feel overwhelmed, since it was her responsibility in Zhen’var’s operational plans to actually organize all of the humanitarian relief operations on the  _Huáscar,_ and she had a command staff course, anyway.  
  
She had laid out the plans for responding to each transporter in operation, to organise based on space-available to provide rations and water to everyone brought aboard on arrival, plus mats, blankets, and pillows.  
  
To sort out the situation herself, she also contrived to beam aboard the  _Star Newburg_ directly to assess if anyone needed direct medical assistance and couldn’t be transported, assigning corpsmen to the other ships. The freighter was originally of Romulan construction, as best she could tell from her ship recognition guides.  
  
Standing in front of her in the transporter room was an impressively tall woman that Nah’dur recognised as being of Vulcanoid extraction. “Miss?”  
  
“Sophie Mankiewicz,” she offered, folding her hands. “You’re the Chief Medical Officer on the  _Huáscar_?”  
  
“That’s absolutely correct. Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur, at your service. Do you have any wounded who need transport?”  
  
“Just a ‘sec.” Sophie spoke through a comm, and a moment later a second, shorter Vulcanoid woman, who also looked distinctly Japanese, stepped through the doors.  
  
“I’m Captain Ogawa of the  _Star Newburg,_ ” she introduced herself. “There’s absolutely nobody who can’t be transported, we already treated and stabilised those with injuries onboard, I have an excellent Doctor here. So, you should probably transfer back to your ship and see to the wounded from the other vessels.”  
  
“Well, hmm. Is your doctor here? I’d at least like to get case summary files.”  
  
“Yes, she’ll be along in a moment,” Captain Ogawa replied, frowning. She didn’t seem inclined to let Nah’dur onboard, and so the Dilgar woman paced in the transporter room.  
  
An Andorian, of one of the more female sexes, arrived a moment later with a stack of flimsy printouts. “Case-files, ah, Doctor…”  
  
“Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur, as it is,” she smiled.  
  
“Yes, well, here you go.”  
  
Nah’dur took them, glancing through them, and on a such a small freighter was actually quite impressed with the quality. “Oh, this is indeed quite sufficient. I guess I should be leaving now,” she added, a bit dumbly. But as she turned to the transporters, she slyly handed something to the Doctor.  
  
A moment later she was gone, and the three women left in the transporter room on the ‘ _Star Newburg’_ stared at each other.  
  
“Do you get the feeling she figured out a lot more than she should have?” Sophie asked uneasily.  
  
Her Captain had a distant, thoughtful look, as if distracted by something, so it was the ship’s doctor that answered. “As a matter of fact, I’m certain of it, because of all things, I was just handed a personal business card. Who still has  _business cards_?”  
  
“Presumably, Dr. Shrati,” ‘Captain Ogawa’ answered, “Dilgar physicians whose last name is  _Dur._ ”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Robert Donovan and Xavier Montoya were the two Ministers of the Martian Government on hand when Zhen’var arrived at Mars Dome. Donovan was an infamous name, his original name had been Benson, but he had adopted his  _nom de guerre_  legally when elected to the Provisional Government. Montoya, of course, had been a member of the collaborationist government who had turned on it during the Civil War. The two men didn’t like each other, Montoya had worked in the system and Donovan was a terrorist, full stop. But Mars, for whatever reasons, had succeeded in putting both in the same coalition government.  
  
Zhen’var decided in the circumstances it was best to arrive alone, and in full dress uniform, she did so. There was more than a little of sharp-eyed watching as people observed an honest-to-god Dilgar walking through Mars Dome and up into the Ministry Palace, an ostentatious name for a structure that, if larger and heavier, was just as prefab as everything else on Mars.  
  
She glanced about - once, she’d been stationed on Mars for a few months, and not liked it overmuch, especially in the aftermath of the Minbari War having ratcheted tensions so highly. Now she was here as a  _Dilgar_ , and an Alliance captain. Zhen’var could  _feel_  people taking out small cameras for the moment, as she kept her expression studiously blank.  
  
The guards showed her into a private meeting room in one of the upper floors of the building. Donovan and Montoya were waiting for her at a small conference table. “Captain Zhen’var,” the old terrorist greeted her with a surprising kindness. “Holloran said you were solid, and she said that opinion wasn’t changing, too. Have a seat.”  
  
“Thank you, I think. What seems to be the problem, sirs? I have an engineering and search team on standby to do what we can.”  
  
“We could use the engineering team immediately, we’ve got damage to three of our domes with loss-of-pressurization,” Montoya said. “Temporary shelter is preferred, everyone wants to come back. Of course, the problem is that Earth has been… Finding excuses to make temporary evacuation very difficult. We could handle things ourselves if…”  
  
“If it wasn’t for the monsters in the tunnels,” Donovan finished, shooting Montoya a sharp look. “We want your specialised technology. There was some kind of biological experiment in the extraterritorial facilities that Earth is still operating here, and it got loose. That’s all we can figure out.”  
  
“I have a scout team which is ready to deploy into the tunnels at once, to determine just what is going on down there. If you will give me a location to deploy my engineering team, I can start sending down people at once to begin repairs. No other information available, either on the attack or aftermath?”  
  
Donovan grimaced. “Get the engineering team to Achates Dome. As for the other matter, there’s no  _definite proof._ ”  
  
“Intelligence, however, believes it was the work of rogue telepaths,” Montoya said, taking a sip of water and looking hard at his counterpart at the table. “The fourth dome attacked, the extraterritorial facility, that was Psi-Corps.”  
  
“Tensions keep growing higher, I see. Thank you, I will brief my people to be cautious.”  _They’re hiding something…_   _I think._ “I will brief you once the situation is stabilized then, gentlemen. It appears I should get my people deployed and working as soon as possible, agreed?”  
  
“As soon as possible. If you can go ahead and contact them now, feel free,” Montoya offered.  
  
“Give me the coordinates for deployment, and I will get the process underway. Captain Zhen’var to  _Huascar_ , put the away team on alert to deploy, and start loading the engineering team aboard the shuttles. We’ve more than a few problems to deal with, and the quicker we resolve them, the better we will all be.”  
  
She smiled politely at the two men before her, already trying to think ahead as to just how  _this_  could somehow get more complicated; assuming the worst had not led her astray yet, and she feared this would be another example.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Following Zhen’var’s orders, Will had assembled the away team in one of the briefing rooms. Fei’nur, Nah’dur, Elia, Daria, based on her desire to have as much ability to handle  _unusual_ events behind the group as she could.  
  
“All right,” Will grinned as he went to stand in front of the briefing table. “Other than the fact that we’re going to be--what’s the line, more crowded than Grand Central Station at rush hour?--in about fifteen minutes, everything looks nominal in our preparations. Unfortunately, we’ve got issues on the surface that go beyond just simple humanitarian relief.”  
  
“Commander?” Fei’nur tracked him from her seat at the table.  
  
“Nah’dur has some idea, and based on Captain Zhen’var’s conversations with the Mars government,” he turned more serious, “there’s something down in the tunnels. We don’t know what it is, but…”  
  
“The evacuees are describing monsters,” Nah’dur explained crisply, rubbing her hands against the sides of her padd. “Wild, unusual monsters.”  
  
“Monsters in the Martian tunnels doesn’t add up, unless they were intentionally released by the attackers,” Daria remarked.  
  
“You’re exactly right. Something else is going on,” Elia added, and looked sharply at Will.  
  
“By all means, the Captain and I agree with that, Commander,” Will replied. “Of course, since we’re all cheerfully chiming in, I will note that the Captain has already spoken with the Martian government and they did confirm  _something_ was down there. So it will be all of you, plus a squad of …”  
  
“Marines are preferred,” Fei’nur answered fast enough he didn’t need to finish the sentence, though he had been kind of leaning that way anyway. “If the Martian government lets us.”  
  
Will rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t think they’re going to care at this point, to be honest. They certainly didn’t say anything about it one way or another.”  
  
“Good,” Fei’nur smiled, tautly, perhaps the most concerned Will had ever seen her. “Then, one squad of Marines will be acceptable.”  
  
“All right. So we’re all clear on the objective? Find out what’s lose in the tunnels. This is recon, no need to solve the problem, we can bring heavier forces in conjunction with the Martian Government to bear to do that.”  
  
“Understood,” Fei’nur nodded sharply, and maybe just a little too quick. “I will be in command?”  
  
“You are the ranking officer, Battlemaster,” Elia replied.  
  
“Commander, depending on the situation, I will let you be the face of the landing party. I do not think there are  _monsters_  in the tunnels. I have  _met_ monsters in the dark, and there are not nearly enough dead for it to be anything like that.” There was a sort of flat deadness in her eyes as she said it.  
  
“Understood, Battlemaster. I will make the appropriate arrangements. Commander,” Elia looked to Will. “I believe we’re ready to go.”  
  
“All right then. Stand-by to beam down in twenty minutes, and you’re all dismissed.”  
  
Will headed out, leaving the four of them in the room, and three of them were looking at Fei’nur, because Elia and Daria could feel that she was not well and Nah’dur had an inkling why.  
  
“What?” Fei’nur asked them, sensing the looks and letting defensiveness bleed into her voice.  
  
“...El’sau, Lieutenant, could you leave please?” Nah’dur asked softly.  
  
The older Dilgar grimaced. “They are battle-comrades. They can stay, Nah’dur. I trust them.” There was still an underlying tension in her voice.  
  
Nah’dur got up and stepped over to the replicator, where she said, simply, “Computer, voice recognition for Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur, Chief Medical Officer, ASV  _Huáscar,_ recognition code alpha alpha bravo sierra foxtrot seven niner. Override prescription interlocks to allow replication of medical drugs and implements.”  
  
Fei’nur’s eyes widened in surprise. “... Nah’dur, you  _can do that?!_  You can just make it give you  _drugs_? _”_  
  
“It’s not like, say, capsaicin, is substantially less complicated than sulpha, or the flavor of proteins in  _seekh kebab_ less complicated than a lithium injection,” Nah’dur answered, and grinned. “So it’s a matter of permissions, not capability. This allows me to, say, in the case of catastrophic damage to sickbay, set up casualty clearing stations anywhere on the ship we can get a portable generator rigged and re-start a replicator.”  
  
“Replicators seem so much like  _magic_  sometimes. I don’t understand how people take them for granted… you’re distracting me, aren’t you?”  
  
“Of course I am,” Nah’dur answered, interfacing with her omnitool to tap in the configuration of drug she wanted, and taking the syringe and needle after it appeared. “The Battlemaster is fit for duty, and always will be,” she said flatly to Elia and Daria. “However, the reality is, this is not a good situation for her memory-wise.” She walked over to Fei’nur and rested a hand on the older Dilgar woman’s shoulder.  
  
“My Warmaster would be most disappointed if I was ever unfit for duty with anything less than a large hole in my skull or massive traumatic injury elsewhere.” Her eyes flickered up for a moment. “ _Tunnels_. Gods, but I  _hate_  tunnels.” There was a  _revulsion_  in the woman’s voice, as she ended her sentence with a sharp hiss on the final syllable.  
  
Elia sucked in her breath and nodded significantly, looking to Daria. “Balos.”  
  
“You would have studied the Earth side of it in school, wouldn’t you? I bet they didn’t talk about just how near-run it was, did they? Or when they dropped the damned  _Gaim_  on us.” She  _shuddered_.  
  
“Indomitable Gaim warriors cleared the tunnels one by one in bitter fighting, carefully supported by Alliance divisions,” Elia recited by rote. “That’s it, though. The Psi-Corps curriculum considered it to only need one line. I’m sorry, Fei’nur.”  
  
In the meantime, Nah’dur had peeled back Fei’nur’s Marine uniform jacket, considerably more ornate and military than the uniforms of the line crew, and sanitized her skin. Because a disposable one-shot needle was much easier to replicate and Fei’nur had never been bothered by them, a quick jab followed.  
  
“It is really a nice,  _completely fucking_ sanitized way to say ‘We dropped millions upon millions of Gaim warriors atop the Dilgar and let them physically tear everyone apart they could reach before we ever let any humans be exposed to danger’. Which is what they did, after all. We never controlled the tunnels, the  _Balosians_  did. You sent in a division, you got a company back.” Her gaze was distant as she felt the injection flow through her veins. “Warmaster Jha’dur won the space battle, and so Earthforce withdrew underground. Our idiotic generals didn’t press them hard enough, so most got into the tunnels, aside from the rear-guards, which killed us seven to one. But it was always that way, against them. They always used the masses of materiel and guns dozens of systems and loans they’d never have to pay back let them buy to blast us apart. So we went down into the tunnels, and they kept killing us. The Warmaster wanted O’Leary, so we went in, all of us Spectres, trying to get the man who’d shattered our codes and killed millions of Dilgar. Some of us found him. They died.  _Everyone died_. Shot, stabbed, tortured by Balosians, hunted for sport after the third battle in space meant everything on the surface was blasted to rubble. Not me, though. I hid. I ambushed those who came after me, made it look like booby-traps and accidents. Never let them know one of us was still alive. I took rations and water from the dead, and kept going after I couldn’t even find those, as they dumped Dilgar bodies into piles and burned them. It was fair, after what we’d done to them. I kept my stealth suit working, and  _I did what I had to to stay alive_.“ Her voice was hoarse, and her hands visibly trembled.  
  
“Just another minute, Fei’nur,” Nah’dur whispered, looking at Elia and Daria, transfixed, barely willing to breathe for fear of interrupting the moment. Nah’dur had started rubbing the commando’s shoulders again after carefully re-buttoning her uniform for her. “It’s one of the more interesting drugs to come out of our experimental research, back in the day. It completely removes the particular flavour of fear humans call anxiety without impacting the other, rational fears which keep you from acting recklessly. One injection can easily last thirty hours and has no side effects which impair combat ability.”  
  
“Part of my combat cocktail, but the auto-dispenser comes with several other drugs I don’t need unless it’s life and death.”  
  
“Also the injection version has a longer duration of action and isn’t as bad on your organic bits, my friend,” Nah’dur smiled. “Anyway, it has utterly no side effects, that was the point, so it doesn’t down-check someone for combat, no drowsiness or lack of killing instinct. I believe we’re running out of time, though, so we need to get ready…?”  
  
“Uh, yes,” Elia agreed, starting, and fingering the Mha’dorn pin on her uniform reverently, before looking to Daria, who silently nodded with a mildly stricken expression on her purple face. There was nothing to say.  
  
“Don’t worry. I’ll get everyone back safely,  _no matter what it takes._ I need to get my Marines ready. _”_ The trembling had passed, and Fei’nur started to look more like herself as she stood. “I’m sorry, you two, I know that could not have been pleasant to experience. I try and keep the control the Mha’dorn forced into me when the Warmaster picked me to join her, but sometimes it can be a bit too much.”  
  
“Do not ask the brave how they won, simply know they are brave because they did,” Nah’dur quoted a Dilgar aphorism, and hugged Fei’nur as she went out.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Continuing to advance through the almost endless tunnels of Mars, the four officers and the squad were armed, using night-vision gear to avoid illuminating and making their presence blatantly known. The localisation had been simple: Fera'xero had simply run a regression and then a few genetic algorithms based on the residence locations of Marsies fleeing their homes who were  _not_ in a damaged dome. With damaged domes excluded, they had quickly localised a worthwhile section of tunnels to search.  
  
The tunnels mixed mining, transportation, habitation, and terraforming uses (frequently water pipes or gas systems). There were a lot of them, because it was cheaper than building a dome, and autonomous Tunnel Boring Machines could pretty much keep drilling and sealing forever. Power had been lost, but there was nothing that kept their sensors from working at close range.  
  
It was an improvement from the last time Fei’nur had been down in a series of tunnels, as she crept ahead, invisible and silent, sending short sensor burst updates to the rest of the squad - a firm believer in having  _options_ , rather than letting the other side dictate the course of events. Mask and visor protected from the dust and gave a ghostly outline of what lay ahead in pitch blackness, though this time she wasn’t hunting an Earthforce general and his command staff. Every two minutes came the short  _all clear_  sensor burst, as she led them deeper and deeper into the warren.  
  
Nobody was speaking. Sound might kill, in the circumstances, so they were all staying quiet, using hand-signals when they could, the officers except Fei’nur in light tactical gear and armour, the Marines in full battle rig. With great uncertainty as to what the ‘monsters’ were… They quite simply had to assume the worst.  
  
Keeping calmly wary, Fei’nur would press forward until  _something_  pricked her senses, sensors, or instincts - all of those had kept her alive before, and they would again.  _I won’t hurt them if they won’t attack me. Gods, I’m not asking too much, am I?_  
  
For a long while, there was no response except to advance, but then they reached an area which the maps the government had given them indicated was an emergency stores prepositioning facility. As she led the way, Fei’nur felt a sudden rush of air and a strange, hideous beast of fur and scale began to form before her -- but it wavered, and was indistinct, like so much of a hologram. The rigorous training she had at the ends of the Mha’dorn left her with a distinctly strange feeling touching her consciousness.  
  
“El’sau. Telepathic illusions.” It came through her subvocal mic, as she reached to her belt and flung a remote speaker into the darkness ahead, keying it as she displaced from her throwing location.  
  
“ _This is Battlemaster Fei’nur of the Dilgar Imperium! I do not wish conflict! We are not with Earth nor Mars!”_ She thought about adding ‘rescue’, but decided that telepaths, Corps or rogue… or  _any_  humans for that matter, would be  _very unlikely_  to believe a Dilgar was here to rescue them.  
  
Elia dashed ahead at the warning, and as she came up short, the rearing monster abruptly disappeared. As she came into line of sight of the stores, around her flooded voices, minds, by the dozens. Her heart nearly stopped. They were  _Young._  
  
 _Everything is all right,_ she thought very simply and clearly.  _My name is Elia Saumarez, and the Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father._ It was a glyph, not words, all telepathic communication was, but the intent was plain, the meaning clear.  
  
Sitting down with her legs folded, she glanced up to Fei’nur, quickly.  
  
Grimacing, Fei’nur dropped her cloak, and dropped to a crouch, holding empty hands out to her sides, and letting some of her effort to shield herself mentally fall away. Gods, she was wary and tense, but not  _hostile_ , as she spoke slowly and clearly in English. “Contact appears non-hostile, form a defensive perimeter. Weapons on safe, turn your lights on. Commander El’sau has point.”  
  
As she finished speaking, the first, braver, of the children, started to step out from behind crates.  
  
“Oh Gods, they’re  _kits?!”_  Fei’nur’s voice expressed real surprise, as her eyes widened. “We need to get them safely  _out_ of here, Commander.”  
  
“Do we ever…” Elia murmured, and brought her omnitool up. “ _Huáscar Actual,_ this is Commander Saumarez. We’ve located the source of the problem.”  
  
“Go ahead, Commander.” Zhen’var’s voice crackled out of the omnitool, as she sat straighter on the bridge.  
  
“Children, Captain. Children defending themselves. Telepath children.”  
  
There was a pause. “Understood, prepare to bring them up as soon as you can.” On the bridge of  _Huáscar,_ Zhen’var was grimacing, as she pressed a comms key, and spoke in Dilgar; “Surgeon-Commander, the ‘monsters’ are a group of telepathic children who appear to have lost their adult minders. I need you to prepare a segregated  _and secured_ area for them. Have all the Mha’dorn aboard report to you, anything we can do to soothe them, the better. Do  _not_ inform the Martians aboard. Questions?”  
  
“I’ll beam aboard immediately and make the preparations while El’sau arranges the transports, Captain. No questions at all.” She nodded to Fei’nur, now in visual range. “Orders,” she mouthed, and vanished into a swirl of the transporter.  
  
Elia grinned and faced the kids, quickly turning the sparkly effect into a teachable moment.  _All right, this is going to be an adventure. You’re going to get to teleport!_  
  
On the bridge of the  _Huáscar,_ Zhen’var activated the intercom to the central security office, where Major Janice Armstrong should be subbing for Fei’nur. “Major, please come to the bridge immediately. I need to brief you on an imminent situation...”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After having gotten the first group to transport, Elia quickly worked with Fera’xero to lock down a transport position for the second concentration of ‘monster attacks’. “The children are very special,” she updated her team as fast as she could with what she had learned from the mental contact. “They’re telepathically activated kids who have  _unusual_ manifestations of psi abilities. So bear in mind, just like with the last group, they’re not all there, and that’s okay. They should have been raised to minimise any danger they could put others in, in a communal environment.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Commander, I’ve been through Mha’dorn resistance training  _and_  the Warmaster’s laboratory. They’re kits, just  _special_  ones. Be open about wanting to protect them, everyone. Nothing to be afraid of.” Fei’nur’s voice was calm and clear, as she glanced about. “Perimeter posts, are we still clear?”  
  
“Clear,” the voices crackled back.  
  
“Daria, ready?” Elia asked, looking ahead to where the woman was sitting on the ground ahead of her, concentrating as the last group of six children waited. A moment later they vanished in a burst of light and Daria rose as well.  
  
“I’m ready. Transport at your command, Commander.”  
  
Elia brought up her omnitool. “Transporter Room One, beam us to Site Two.”  
  
A moment later the transporter effect bounced them straight down to the next site on Mars where they expected to find another group of the children.  
  
As soon as she could move, Fei’nur’s head was on a swivel, as she signaled her Marines to spread out.  _Step one, secure the landing zone…_  
  
Corporal Gar’akh swung out down one of the main passages. “Battlemaster,” he almost immediately squawked. “We’ve got a party of armed humans approaching in the nine o’clock tunnel. Adults with lights.”  
  
Fei’nur immediately began running in that direction, signaling to the rest of her team; “Defensive positions! Corporal, fall back and await my arrival. Reserve fire-team, you’re with Commander El’sau!” There was something profoundly  _jarring_  about trying to use  _authority_  rather than knives to deal with humans in a tunnel.  
  
“Colonel, allow me?” Daria asked, falling in at her side.  
  
“Very well, Lieutenant. I will give you the first chance.” She still had her short rifle in hand as she was talking. This could go very wrong, very quickly, and she’d  _promised_  to get her team back. Before coming into view, she activated her stealth suit, and vanished, moving to cover her subordinate.  
  
Daria stepped forward, her purple-based coloring immediately marking her as an alien like none locally known, and drawing the approaching humans up to a halt. “I am Lieutenant Daria Seldayiv of the ASV  _Huáscar_ and, we are here at the behest of your government. Do you need assistance?”  
  
The men paused, but a shorter, dirty brown haired woman with them pushed forward. “Yeah, I’m Liz Maguire, and I sure as heck need assistance. There’s been attacks in these tunnels, and we think they’re coming from this area, the last two parties were turned back by what they thought were monsters, but we know better.”  
  
Daria remembered her deescalation training, and smiled politely. “Of course. So, these attacks, what have they been?”  
  
“People have been getting chased by these things.”  
  
“And food is missing,” a man with a salt and pepper beard added. “Hard to get food right now, and whatever is down here is overtaxing t’scrubbers, too.”  
  
“So you are looking to stop the missing food and the threats?”  
  
“Exactly. So help us drive ‘em out, whatever it is,” Liz nodded firmly, and thumbed a plasma cutting torch.  
  
“While we appreciate that the help, that would be an extremely risky endeavour. We already have a squad of marines in full armour here,” Daria answered. “I can alert you when we’ve finished our mission?”  
  
“I don’t hear any shootin’!” the bearded man shouted. “So how the hell are your ‘marines’ dealing with it?!”  
  
Daria reached out to Fei’nur.  _Knife display, please._ “Oh, we have our methods.”  
  
Fei’nur ghosted into view, wavering into visibility as she did, a fighting knife flashing in her hand, giving a mocking salute to the humans with it as she did. The very nature of her suit had left her with  _far_  too much experience up-close-and-personal. Weapons could be picked up on sensors, knives far less so.  
  
Daria smiled. “I think we’ve got the situation perfectly well in hand,” she winked, and then watched, with her arms casually folded, as the group of humans started to disperse and head back from in front of their position. She waited until they were gone a good hundred meters before speaking softly into her pickup feed.  
  
“All right, I think we’ve taken care of that. Commander Saumarez, have you located the children?”  
  
Static. Daria’s eyes flashed as she spread her perception again. “Colonel, we need to get back to Elia’s position  _now_.”  
  
She didn’t make a sound, just vanished from sight while taking off at a sprint. “Reserve team, converge on Battle Expert El’sau’s position  _now!_ Reports! Lieutenant, try and keep up!”  
  
Daria managed to keep up very impressively, matching pace with Fei’nur even though she was cloaked. The distance to cover was not great, as one team of Marines assumed cover positions behind them and they tore through the tunnels. Of all the things it could be…  
  
 _Probably not the children, but why didn’t she send an alert on the comms…? By all the hells, she knows better!_  
  
As they tore around the last corner, catching up with their reserve team just moments after they had arrived, the situation became clear. A dozen humans, much similar to the first group, were scattered around. Some were on the floor, shaking. Some were on their knees, glaring hate. Some, locked in a rictus of determination, remained in place on their feet. Weapons had dropped to the ground around them.  
  
A group of children cowered to one side behind some crated equipment. In the centre, carefully keeping all twelve of the adults in her field of vision, Elia stood with a rictus of pain and concentration on her own face, utterly silent and completely absorbed into her task.  
  
Fei’nur let out a snarl of rage as a telescoping club slipped into her hand. Without even decloaking, she slammed into the first target. “Stun, take them down  _now_!”  
  
Daria and the two Marines on scene needed no further prompting. They opened fire simultaneously with weapons on stun, splaying them across the human gang again and again. Another two Marines reached the position in time to join in for the last bursts.  
  
As they did, Elia closed her eyes and staggered backwards. One of the children, a boy of about ten, broke loose from his hiding place as he did and ran straight to her, hugging her right thigh and steadying her.  
  
“Defensive positions! Battle Expert, are you all right?!” Fei’nur flickered back into view, holstering the club, and spreading out her hands to show she was unarmed. “Lieutenant, give her Nah’dur’s shot for over-stressed telepaths. Kits, it’s all right! I know we’re not Psi Cops, but we’re here to help!”  
  
Daria stepped over to Elia, projecting calm with her own gifts as she knelt by the woman, easing her into a sitting position back against the tunnel wall, and quickly gave her the injection through the veins on her arm after rolling her sleeve back from her glove.  
  
Keep herself very carefully controlled, to avoid projecting to the children, Elia looked to Fei’nur. “Battlemaster,” she said carefully in Dilgar, “they’re not some vigilante gang. They had stun cuffs and syringes.”  
  
Fei’nur’s expression got stormy at hearing  _that_ , and her mental walls slammed down. “Marines, secure the prisoners. They’re under arrest on suspicion of kidnapping for purposes of slave trading.”  
  
“Universal jurisdiction on that count,” Daria spoke, in case anyone thought to hesitate. They didn’t, and quickly secured the prisoners.  
  
By that point, Elia had recovered enough to the point that she was coordinating beam-outs of children, 68 in all in this group, and from what she could feel, it was the last, the two groups having fully accounted for those present at the facility. That, at least, was a relief.  
  
“Battle Expert, I want to get us all back to the ship as quickly as I can. This entire situation gives me a bad feeling, and I don’t think we’ve shaken the sabre-cat yet.”  
  
Elia nodded in concurrence, still a bit shaky. “Transporter Control, this is Commander Saumarez. I have twelve adult signatures, no transponders, my location. Beam them directly to the brig.”  
  
“Mission successful, for now. Battlemaster Fei’nur to Transporter Control, bring the rest of us up as soon as able.” When her muscles seized with the energizing of the beam, she was still frowning.  _I don’t like this feeling… not one bit. The sooner I get to Security Central, the better._  
  
As they arrived, two security guards were covering the entrance to the transporter room, looking edgy. “Colonel,” the transporter operator said, “We’ve got problems.”  
  
“Understood.” Fei’nur brought her omni-tool up. “Major Armstrong, this is Colonel Fei’nur, I’m back aboard. Give me the data-dump to my rig, I’m taking command.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The arrival of the first tranche of children had initially gone off smoothly and without problems. They arrived, Nah’dur’s medical teams greeted them, and then started taking them off a special set of cargo bays set off from the other refugee areas under utilization to date.  
  
News, however, spread fast. Most of the refugees had some kind of link device connecting them to the Martian news. Or someone offhandedly mentioned where the kids had come from and why, a classic case of loose lips sinking ships that would never be definitively pinned down.  
  
Though they were not being taken to the same locations, their paths across the ship did cross, and it was as Nah’dur was personally leading the last group that moved through the ship. As she did, a group of tired and dirty refugees who had just arrived paused, and watched the kids.  
  
“Hey, whose kids are those?” One woman in the group asked.  
  
“Oh, they’re kids we were rescuing,” Nah’dur answered, coming to a stop. “I am Surgeon-Commander Nah’dur, the Chief Medical Officer. And you are..?”  
  
“Joan Watkins. Whose kids are those? Why are kids being taken away separately like that?”  
  
“They were rescued from the surface independently. They didn’t have parents with them.”  
  
“Well, give them to us? We can take care of our own little Marsies! I mean, you’re a Dilgar, whaddaya gonna do with those kids? Eat ‘em!?”  
  
Nah’dur grimaced. “Look, they’re not  _your_ kids, Miss Watkins.” She wanted to murder the woman instead for suggesting she’d eat kits.  
  
“Hey, Joan… I think she’s on to something.” A man stepped forward, rubbing at his mustache. The children in the group had stopped, and he was staring at their silent self-organisation. “They’re not  _our_ kids. They’re those monster kids from the surface. The Psi-Corps experiments, that was the rumour, it must be true!”  
  
“Now look here, they’re not  _monsters,_ they’re telepaths…”  
  
“Telepaths,” Joan hissed. “Telepaths not in gloves. Little freak ones that do crazy things. We’ve heard about that facility. There’s rumours people go in there and never come out again. Get them off your ship, Dilgar.”  
  
“No, they’re safer here.” Nah’dur took a measured step back. “And you all need to calm down, please, there’s plenty of room for everyone, there won’t be any fighting over lifeboats.”  
  
The man stepped forward, leaning into her face. “Now, see here, ‘Surgeon-Commander’, those things shouldn’t be on the same ship as we are. They’re  _dangerous._ ” And abruptly he shoved her back into the wall and took off down the hallway toward the kids.  
  
He made it all of six feet before Nah’dur shot him in the back with a pistol set to stun, of course. Then she turned it on the Marsies, who didn’t know about Alliance stun settings and  _turned_ on her with a sudden rage.  
  
“You said you’re a doctor and you SHOT HIM? MY GOD, YOU SHOT HIM!” Joan screamed, and charged Nah’dur.  
  
Nah’dur fired again, this time on wide-beam. And again. The group collapsed, stunned, but further down the corridor, other refugees had seen it all happen. She shouted at her omnitool. “Emergency line to the bridge --  _Captain, the refugees are trying to attack the telepath children, we have a riot on our hands!”_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time Nah’dur had gotten back to the sickbay, Fei’nur had arrived back on the ship and received her report. Six cargo bays were in the hands of the rioters, and several security personnel had been wounded in melees with infuriated Marsies who had fled the surface just to find their ‘tormentors’ back among them.  
  
“I want Marines in at least reinforced squad strength and in battle armor, security in full riot gear. Reduce the oxygen content in the cargo bays, seal them off with the blast doors.  _Nobody breaks order on a Dilgar ship!_ ” Her blood was up, as she started to give sharp orders to her teams to contain the Martians and protect the bays the telepath children were in, jogging to the front lines. “Attention Martian refugees! You are engaged in a riotous assembly! Disperse to your assigned cargo bays and cease attacking Alliance personnel, or  _force shall be used to compel your submission! This will be your only warning!”_  
  
A man in the front of the group she faced made an obscene gesture. “We’re  _Marsies,_ and you can take your  _law_ and stuff it up your…”  
  
“Open fire.” The order flashed on headsets, and crackled in earpieces, the Last Spectre’s expression utterly pitiless.  
  
Glowing stun beams raked across the rioters from the entirety of the reinforced squad. They started dropping like flies, and the Marines advanced, mostly managing to not step on the stunned people, continuing to fire as fast as they could.  
  
“ _Keep your ranks, Marines_ , advance at the  _half-_ step! Like you were trained! One- _two_ , one- _two_ ,  _do not break your ranks!_ ”  
  
The Marines shifted forward in a strange shuffling half-step which had the effect of psychologically recoilling the mob between shots. They organized  _no_ effective opposition, a few objects bounced off helmets and that was it. Really, the only problem was that in another three minutes, they’d completely cleared all opposition from the corridors. Just like that, it was over. Security teams had advanced behind the protection of the Marines to restrain and stabilize the stunned Martians, Fei’nur nodding in satisfaction as she keyed her transmit button. “Captain Zhen’var, we have restored order. Transferring the riotous elements to the brig now.” Clicking her transmitter off, the old marine shook her head. “And here I thought it would be  _challenging_ to take this assignment.”


	5. Act 4

# Act 4

Anna Poniatowska had led a crew of almost 300 engineering and damage control personnel down to the surface of Mars shortly after their arrival. This was a heavy burden to the _Huáscar,_ but trained personnel were critical for the engineering phase of emergency response. The Martian government had already been into the engineering response and recovery phase when they had arrived, and that, if anything, made her just as important as Nah’dur’s medical staff to the operation. They had environmental systems to fix, and physical Dome envelope repairs to be made.

Dome repairs were their own unique kind of special. A geodesic dome structure was neat, geometric, symmetrical. Beautiful to a designer. In a way, though, Anna would have preferred a solid continuous dome. It would have required a special patching structure to hold the patch composite in place, but once you controlled conditions for the cure strength, it was straightforward enough. Repairing a geodesic required having parts which fit within the standardised table.

The marsies had plenty of dome repair parts--it was one thing they had hardly run out of and never would if they could help it--but the assembly was laborious, which was Anna and her team from engineering fit in. A starship was a piece of equipment which virtually defined complexity, and engineers possessed hundreds of specialist tools for repairing damage in combat. This fit essentially the equivalent starship case of a structural bulkhead torn and exposed to space, but here the structure was not massive duranium frames sheared by heavy fire and buckled and melted plate.

Because the specialized parts took so long to fit, the idea was to create a patch first to quickly restore pressure. This seemed straightforward, except the problem was that in a geodesic structure load had to be distributed to be held, it was enormously strong but the individual pieces were weak. Put a patch on the edge of a shattered section and it would start progressive tensile failures. So Anna was working with Vera Anagnos, PE, the Facility Engineer of the Dome, to complete finite-element modeling of the structure load to finish sizing the attachment points of the dome.

Once the modeling was done--and the _Huáscar_ ’s computers made this much faster--they could start rigging cables which the airtight fabric would be attached to. On the edges of the patch would be special buckles attached to the frame, which directed the cables to tightening ratchets. The ratchets would draw the patch tight while redistributing the load away from a single point, and the system was tensioned enough with a second set of circumferential cables and ratchets that the contact pressure alone would form the gas-tight seal, there were no adhesives on the edges.

“Starting the twenty-seventh iteration now. Your sensor scans of the failure region were almost _too_ precise, Anna,” Vera remarked with a wry grin. “The system keeps flipping between two different ring sizes.”

“We could just make the command decision to go up to the next patch size since it might be necessary anyway.”

“We could,” the Martian-Greek woman agreed, “but we only have one patch that big, so if we come under attack again, we’d be screwed. Unless we can finish dome reassembly in the depressurised region before then. Gonna stay around for the fun part?”

“I hope so. I want to get you all set.”

“Well, it’s appreciated. Marsies aren’t really used to Earthers who give a damn about us, you know,” Vera shrugged, and reached over for the coffee pot to give them both a refill. They were inside the emergency command trailer, and the urgency of the situation--complete with a countdown clock to when the deep survival shelters exhausted their CO2 scrubbing capacity--didn’t mean there wasn’t time for coffee, in fact, it made it mandatory.

“So,” Vera began again as she was glancing at some of the news on a subsidiary computer screen as the model ran the next iteration. “What’s up with this entire teep thing? They let these monster kids loose in the tunnels and…”

“Monster kids, Vera? Surely? They look like humans with souls to me.” Anna goggled for a moment, before sighing. That was too intemperate. “Apologies, I know you…”

“Maybe I _did_ mean it,” Vera replied, her face turning blank. “I don’t understand who in a million years could support those monsters. Who could raise them? They could take over the minds of any parents. Who could integrate them into society?”

“I assume the Psi-Corps had a plan,” Anna answered, now with a bit of heat in her voice. “Look, you have to try, you can’t just abandon people.”

“They were never people, they were teeps. And you’re helping them instead of punishing them for terrorising Marsie civilians.”

Anna grimaced. “Look, once you start dehumanising one group, you tear down the laws that protect everyone, and next up, they come for you. That _happened,_ you dehumanised telepaths and then they came for Marsies. Period. That’s what happened.”

“Just wait until one of them _gets in your mind,_ and then we’ll see how precious your high ideals are, Alliancer. Now shut up and let’s get back to work.” She was clearly restraining herself from outright exploding, as frankly Mars culture favoured at that moment.

Anna grimaced tautly. All human life was valuable, including that of Marsies who were essentially racist toward Teeps. She turned back to her console, and adjusted some of the parameters. They needed a stable solution and they needed to get to work. This would all be better when the dome was re-pressurized. Maybe. She was about to go on to some forms that her omnitool told her she needed to e-sign, when another alert flashed.

“Just a second, Vera, I’m going to use the WC.”

“Fine,” the woman answered, uncompanionably ignoring her.

Anna stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door. “L’tenant Rutgers, what did you find?”

“Commander Poniatowska… There were _Darglan_ energy signatures in the weapons used for this attack.”

  
  
  


The next morning, Zhen’var decided to hold a staff meeting to try and sort out the details of the chaotic events which had defined their first full day in orbit of Mars.

“Anna, thank you for ensuring nobody was shot while repairing the domes - nobody _was_ shot while repairing the domes, were they?” Zhen’var’s voice came out from where her face was in her hands. _One hundred six people_ were in the brig… and the overflow brig spaces as well. She was already having nightmares about that many Ten-Eleven’s, or as the lawyers called it, the _Report on the Use of Potentially Lethal Force_.

“No, Captain, nobody got shot while repairing the domes. Though there may be an accident today involving ratchet bolts going through peoples’ skulls,” Anna answered, cuddling her coffee cup like a lover.

Elia was trying to smile at the humour, looking at Arterus across the table from her and trying to keep her spirits up. Most of the other staff were in Anna’s position, but not quite so blatant about it.

“Make sure everyone is in their PPE.” She replied, deadpan to her engineer. “In all seriousness, very well done, Elia, Fei’nur, Nah’dur, all of you. Nobody was killed, the children were rescued, kidnappers were arrested. Commander, how _are_ they doing? I have all the Mha’dorn on the ship assisting, but I know most are not conversant in Earth languages without the translator, which means they are not at all easily understood via mental glyphing, yes?”

“Most have been learning with me and can maintain some kind of positive mind contact,” Elia answered. “They are… The misfits of the Psi-world, they didn’t fit into what EarthGov wanted out of telepaths, so the Corps was raising them here, to try and understand them and help them be functional adults. At least one is likely capable of teleporting short distances like the rumoured powers of some very old Asari Matriarchs. Most are low-level teeks.”

“They are _children_ , that is what matters. Do we know if their guardians were killed or separated in the attack? I assume there is some sort of parental bond, or was… I am hoping for the second, honestly. Children need parental figures. _Diplomatically_ , of course, this is going to explode on us at any moment.”

“Some of the Guardians were killed,” Elia said, and rubbed her face with a gloved hand. “Captain, they were driven out into the tunnels intentionally. The telepaths who attacked the facility wanted to cause chaos on Mars.”

“Well, they have succeeded. I do not think it impossible the Martian government will demand all Psi Corps facilities but Commercial ones be removed from the planet in the wake of this. They are just _children._ No matter what, Elia, we are going to keep them _safe._ You have my oath.”

“Thank you, Captain, but what about the kidnapping gang we arrested on the surface?”

Daria leaned in first. “We’ve got to take them back for trial, of course, it’s the law, we’ve got jurisdiction, we know the MO of these types of gangs in this universe.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t care what the Martian government said to us right now,” Will agreed. “We’ve got ‘em in the brig, keep them there.”

“I am not handing them over. Not after the Martian behaviour yesterday. We will hold them, and while they are off balance, I want what-ever information we can get, admissible or not. If someone is kidnapping telepaths, the Corps needs to know, as do our own law enforcement people.”

“Thank you, Captain. With your permission, I need to get back to the children now. Nah’dur has them all camping out in a field-trip format in the sickbay to keep them out of the refugee zone right now.”

“That… is remarkably adorable, Commander. Yes, granted. I will arrange your duty shifts to be filled as long as you are needed there. If you need me to pay a visit as part of the effort to keep them distracted… children are children.” She gave a warm smile, before looking to the rest of the table. “That means the rest of you are all being given an effective bump a level up the command chain as long as Commander Sausmarez is needed in Sickbay, but you will all rise to the occasion, I am sure.”

Elia left, feeling vaguely dissatisfied with herself that she had tried to be neutral about the condition of the kids. Sometimes, attitudes of old simply died hard. Behind her, with the flow of refugees having stopped, she could hear Zhen’var talking about recalling the _Heermann_ now for rest.

Zhen’var, watching her go, looked down at the information she had received from the surface. Not even here with her staff was she going to bring it up. It was for one pair of ears only.

  
  
  
  
  


The call from Mars Dome was not long in coming. It sounded insistently, and before long a voice from comms summoned the Captain, warning her that the Martian Directorate wanted to speak directly to her--urgently.

“I will take it in my office, thank you.” Pulling on a uniform jacket, Zhen’var looked into the mirror, sighing softly as she straightened her hair. _Diplomatic crisis, check._ Sitting carefully in her chair, she tapped the key to bring the connection live. “Your Excellencies, you wished to speak with me?” She asked, with a politely rising inflection.

“Captain, you have made arrests of our people on your ship--and of our people _off_ your ship. This is, needless to say, what we expect of _Earthforce,_ ” Donovan leaned in. “You have treated Mars sovereignty like so much of a wad of t--tissue.”

“On suspicion of kidnapping for purposes to supply the slave trade, to the second, sir, and universal jurisdiction applies in such a situation. As to the first, any unrest aboard ship is as dangerous as that inside a dome, Excellency.”

Minister Montoya folded his hands. “What’s wrong with that picture? Oh right, universal jurisdiction: We have the bigger guns. I’ll point out that the situation involves Psi-Corps essentially abandoning unstable children who are a safety and security threat to roam through our tunnels at will.”

“An _Earth_ agency,” Donovan added, “which has treated us very much like a dumping ground, this is just the latest straw.”

“A _human_ agency,” Zhen’var answered. “I am given to understand that casualties among those raising and guarding them were not minor. The Corps was not the ones who pushed them into the tunnel, those who breached your domes are the ones to blame.”

“Be that as it may, we need to get out of this war. The Telepath Resistance should have no cause for attacking Martian targets,” Montoya frowned. “Captain, do you think you’ve finished your little round-up?”

“We believe all the children have been rescued from the tunnels, if that is what you mean, Mister Montoya.” She hid her frown at the direction this conversation was going.

“Well, make sure they don’t come back,” Donovan added flatly. “Captain Zhen’var, we have withdrawn permission for Psi-Corps to operate on our territory. Those are not Marsie telepaths, they’re Earth telepaths, and you cannot return them to the surface under any circumstance. That decision has been voted on by the Provisional Congress of Mars and the record will be forwarded to the _Huáscar._ ”

“You are making a mistake, Minister.” Zhen’var’s voice had gone oddly flat, as her expression froze. “This is exactly what those terrorists _wanted_ when they struck your domes.”

“Mars made a mistake by agreeing to permit Psi-Corps to remain in our space to begin with. In the future, Mars telepaths will be organized by us Marsies and no outsiders from _anywhere._ Good day, Captain.”

The screen blinked off before she could open her mouth to reply, and the Captain sank back with a loud groan. _Elia needs to stay with the children…_ “Captain Zhen’var to Lieutenant Va’tor, please report to my office as soon as is convenient.”

  
  
  
  


The ship’s mental hygienist, with her brown-blonde hair over typical Dilgar thin, dun fur, arrived a few minutes later. “Captain?” She asked. “Reporting as directed.”

“With Commander El’sau occupied, you are the highest-ranking Mha’dorn officer aboard.” She paused, fiddling with her hands, before forging ahead, looking up with worry deep in her feline eyes. “The Martian Government has voted to expel the Psi Corps and take control over Martian telepaths.”

Va’tor inhaled sharply. “It’s happening, then. The war that El’sau has feared.”

“That is my fear. You may access the comms system as needed, I do not _want_ to know what plans the Mha’dorn have, but the time may have come to put them into effect. I am unsure how long it will be before we are expelled from orbit. Any questions, Lieutenant?”

“Our superiors in the Alliance… Should I even ask, Captain?”

“I shall inform them, but we cannot predict their response with certainty. I do not expect them to take it as seriously as we do.”

“I will send the message immediately, then.” _Before we receive contradictory orders_ was manifestly something that did not need to be said. She came to attention. “By your leave?”

“Granted, Lieutenant. May our gods smile upon us and all we do.” _And Divine, but we need all the help we can get._

She couldn’t escape giving a report to Admiral Maran at this stage, of course. The events had pushed the limit of a starship captain’s authority, or at least, had largely defined it during humanitarian operations. This was now a _major event._ Zhen’var started to type, quickly; she preferred the ability to marshal her thoughts inherent in old-fashioned text. That did not, however, mean she was not expecting a possibly _angry_ comms message to follow very soon afterwards.

A few minutes later, the priority channel went live from Portland. However, it was Maran himself, so at least it wasn’t going to be angry; it seemed the Gersallian Admiral never truly got angry.

“Admiral, sir, I had expected an urgent reply to my report. Please accept my apologies for not submitting it sooner, the situation has been both urgent and deteriorating.”

“You have acted according to humanitarian principles to contain the situation, I have no complaint about your decision of when to report, Captain,” he replied, his tone still mild. “As it stands, we have no interest in a conflict between the Telepath Resistance and Psi-Corps, except, of course, that it pertains to the Byron Free Colony.”

“The situation has grown somewhat more dire than that, Admiral. Mars moving against the Corps will turn into a humanitarian disaster. Martian anti-telepath sentiment already caused a riot against _children_ aboard this ship, sir.”

“I would caution you to at least consider that the sentiment of the Martians may as much be based on their resentment of Psi-Corps’ presence as on sincere fear toward telepaths, however, I acknowledge that the situation is serious. We will be dispatching a special diplomatic team to Mars to assist their government in the drafting of legislation and to encourage them with economic incentives to comply broadly with human rights norms, and that is, of course, out of our purview in the fleet.”

“I wish I shared your confidence, sir. I expect to be expelled from Martian space within the next few days, at _best_. The situation in human space here for telepaths is very poor, and a collapse of the Psi Corps… does not bear thinking about in terms of consequences.”

“Many in Portland, Captain,” he said, now _very_ carefully, “would consider the collapse of Psi-Corps to be a great advance in telepath rights in the Earth Alliance. Certainly, no Gersallian, who enjoys the company of his or her relatives so blessed as _farisa,_ and admits them normally to family relations and society, would regard without a tinge of horror the current situation in which the gloves and badge mark a caste devoid of rights and protections under the law. Are you certain you are not evidencing your own past in your view, Captain?”

“Yes, Admiral. I believe the Corps needs _reforms_ , but it was Earthgov who forced the telepaths into the ghetto known as Psi Corps, and steadily exerted more and more pressure that warped the entire system, before finally upending the entire basis of the Corps at the dawn of the Clarkist regime. Gersallians did not start murdering telepaths, born and unborn, as soon as the existence of them was proven. Earth _did_ , Admiral Maran. I know my position is not popular, sir, and I do not often share it, but if you read the human theory of the stages of genocide, sir, the humans in this galaxy are between the seventh and eighth stage when it comes to their own telepaths.”

“And you think the Telepath Resistance will serve to enable that activity?” Maran’s expression, thoughtful and serious, showed he was not disregarding the idea entirely. “The extremists, creating a justification for the genocidaires on the other side?”

“I do not think the Resistance remembers _why_ the Corps exists, and _how_ it became what it is, sir. What they have done on Mars has resulted in the removal of what few protections Martian telepaths had _left_.”

“We _will_ be monitoring the solution under a genocide watch, Captain, I can assure you. In the meantime, what about the children? If the reports in the Martian press are correct, Psi-Corps has been using them for experiments, and that, of course, puts the Corps in a very different light than you would have me believe. I grant those reports may be wildly inaccurate, but the claims by refugees in the Byron Free Colony suggest it is not out of the realm of possibility.”

“I intend to hold them aboard until such time as I have a sufficient understanding to make a decision, sir. I would like to speak to those who had been stationed at the dome before releasing them. If they _have_ been treated as nothing but experimental subjects, then returning them is clearly out of the question, I agree. I do not _think_ that the case, but I understand the need to prove such to the government.”

“Understand that under Alliance law, Captain, it is somewhat more complicated than that. Unless you can demonstrate family reunification after an urgent disaster, their cases must be adjudicated in our family law courts for fosterage and location of living relatives.”

“The Corps does not quite work in a way easily compatible with Alliance law as I understand it, sir, but I shall keep my duties _firmly_ in mind.” _Somehow. Elia, what have you gotten me into_ **_now_ ** _…?_

Taking a breath, she launched into the part which both served as a riposté for Admiral Maran’s feelings of moral ambiguity on the subject, and perhaps the most dangerous thing of all for Alliance involvement. Because they might, in fact, have some involvement. “Admiral, before we finish, there’s one more thing I need to bring up.”

“Captain?”

“There’s evidence the attackers had access to Darglan weaponry…”

  
  
  
  


Due to the fights with the refugees that had resulted from the arrival of the kits, Nah’dur had ended up moving her Marsie patients to the emergency sickbay and concentrating the telepath kits in the main sickbay, all 209 of them. That had turned it into a glorified nursery, but most importantly, it had put them all in one place for Elia be present.

Nah’dur was not exactly sure what Ops was saying to the kits, but she had gotten them all calmed down from the earlier case, so whatever it was, it had worked. Surrounded by large numbers of children who were now sitting on the floor and calm, she was thankful these human kits had some of the Dilgar virtue of small kits who could sit patiently with their mothers at work all day, as long as they were rewarded with food afterwards.

She dug into lab results, keeping herself closely focused on them. The kits would just be upset by excess thinking, and she wanted some valuable calm. For all Marsies had disrespected them immensely, the sick and injured still needed their lab results and treatment plans. Nah’dur tapped a way for a while, stretching and flashing her demi-claws when the relative boredom of the assignment got to her.

After finishing up the really important ones, she switched to reviewing notes from the data that the Krogan had sent to her. Urdnot Wrex had come to trust her at some level in their correspondence after Tra’dur had introduced them and the genophage was an actual challenge. She caught herself from thinking more such idle thoughts for the sake of the telepath kits, and focused on the chemistry.

Behind her, Elia had managed to organise nap-time thanks to the supply of emergency bedrolls, mylar blankets and rubberized cover pillows from the emergency stores for humanitarian disasters. Now the children were waking up again.

“Doctor?”

Nah’dur corrected the voice without thinking of it. “Surgeon-Commander,” she said idly, and then blinked widely.

“Surgeon-Commander!” The little male-child bounced to her left. “You’re the ship’s Chief Medical Officer, Miss Saumarez said. I’m Lucas.”

“Lieutenant Commander Saumarez!” One of the girls corrected. “She gets to be an _Officer._ ”

“Well, Lucas, and?”

“Betsy,” the girl offered.

“She does indeed get to be an officer, and I am the Chief Medical Officer. CMO. Militaries love acronyms; my name is Nah’dur. Lucas and Betsy. Is there a reason your counterparts don’t talk? Other than telepathically, I mean.”

“Oh, well, I mean we’re special! That’s why we have a special Sigma Cadre all to ourselves. Everyone’s different here.”

“That is something of an understatement,” Nah’dur remarked.

The words brought a quick reaction. “You’re not going to hurt us like the Marsies, are you? I…” Betsy’s face scrunched up.

“Aren’t sure because you don’t have much practice reading the intentions of aliens?” Nah’dur replied with a grin and a wink. “And _especially_ Dilgar? Why, don’t worry. I happen to like the lot of you a great deal. The Martians or Marsies or whatever they call themselves are being ridiculous and you were just defending yourselves, weren’t you?”

Lucas nodded widely.

“I have some experience with the concept,” Nah’dur elaborated drolly.

“We never thought we’d get to meet Dilgar,” he said softly.

“We’re very hard to kill, little Lucas. I’m glad to be around to help you. So! ...Do you have families? Nobody was really quite sure about that.”

“Oh yes, we were telling Miss-Commander Saumarez about our creche parents!”

“Creche parents, now that’s an unusual practice for humans. They love you a lot, don’t they?”

“Yes.” Several nods came from those not speaking.

“I was starting to get the idea that was true. Very well then, I shall make this something of a day at the lab for you. I am helping a gentleman named Urdnot Wrex; his species was attacked by a half-baked, retarded little imperfect bio-weapon, and he needs a professional to eliminate the long term consequences. Fortunately for him, he got to be friends with my sister, and so here we are. Today, children, we shall learn about the genophage, and how I am going to eliminate it!”

The children giggled. Nah’dur paused for a moment and fluffed up, before continuing onwards with her example, and getting far more rapt attention. Fortunately for her she never noticed the reason for the giggles: Elia had rolled her eyes behind Nah’dur’s back in friendly bemusement at the young Dilgar genius’ penchant for self-confident proclamations.

Nah’dur nonetheless cheerfully led them through an educational precis reasonably well-targeted to their age groups on what a genophage was and how it could be cured, in principle. Then she declared they were all a great help to the Dilgar, and so with great seriousness, replicated a large quantity of child-sized Mha’dorn badges and passed them out to the kids to make them honorary Mha’dorn. All in all, Elia actually thought Nah’dur was surprisingly good with kids.

Regardless, the Nah’dur improv train for keeping human telepath ‘kits’ happy wouldn’t last forever. Elia knew that politics be damned, she had to get them back to their family. As much as she didn’t feel comfortable doing it, Elia took advantage of the break to go talk to someone.

She needed Commander Imra in her court.

  
  
  
  
  


By the evening, they had completed major dome repairs and had begun returning refugees to the surface. This considerably relieved the pressure on the ship, both in onboard space terms and in terms of having their engineering and damage control crews back up to full strength, making Elia’s unique duties in sickbay a little bit easier to manage.

The respite would be short. Shortly after dinner that evening, it finally happened. Two crisp looking shuttles in formal government livery marked with the Omega of Psi Corps began approaching Mars Sphere, escorted by a flight of Earthforce Starfuries. The event brought an immediate response from the small Martian defence force, mostly armed freighters.

They scrambled toward the intrusion, running their engines hard, and this brought up an immediate set of alarms on the bridge of the _Huáscar_ where Will had the deck. He looked at the insignia on the shuttles and saw the tactical display with energy up in the capacitors on the Martian ships. That was enough.

“Hail the incoming shuttles and inform them that the Martians are rolling hot. Advise that we cannot defend them against an intrusion of Mars-Sphere. Condition One, battlestations.” It was the fourth time in four days that the ship had gone to stations, each potentially in earnest.

“They have returned our signal,” L’tenant Tor’jar was back at the comms bank. “Sir, they’re asking if a direct approach to the _Huáscar_ will place them under our protection.”

Will sucked in his breath. He didn’t have time to wait even seconds for the Captain to reach the bridge with those kinds of closing rates, he had to make a decision now.

“Sir,” Arterus was reporting from his console, “That Warlock at 223 Mark Four is coming about at full thrust toward the line of control.”

He made his call. “Tell the Martians we’ll take the Psi Corps delegation aboard to help them avoid a shoot-out with that Warlock and vector the shuttles in for landing. Warn them that we’re not going to permit them to be fired upon when on a direct heading to land aboard. And _Launch Alert Five._ Get them out to cover the shuttles!”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

  
  
  
  


The moment that the order came in from the bridge, PriFly leapt into action. Stasia’s voice snapped into the comms that fed the helmets of Lar’shan and the three other pilots of his flight. “Alert flight WC-50 you are _go_ for launch.”

“Completing final launch checks now, PriFly Actual!” Lar’shan answered instantly, fingers punching across rows of control systems to do final launch checks. “Lead Flight, confirm final checks.”

“Camel, this is Lead Two Confirm.”

“Lead Three Confirm.”

“Lead Four Confirm.”

Lar’shan checked the green-lights across the board again. Externals had already been checked on Alert Five. His aircraft was being guided by magnetic tracks in the deck into one of the launch tubes. The _Huáscar_ was the first ship modified to have these tubes, firing directly below the primary hull. They were linked by elevators that could handle anything up to a runabout between the main hangar above them and the fighter hangar below -- though bombers now spilled into the main hangar. This had increased the capacity to 72 fighters and 24 of a new design of bomber and improved handling of runabouts and shuttles, and relieved crowding on the troop transports--in theory.

One of the advantages was that the flank tubes meant for launching a full strike, which were linked to the prep bays for the fighters, were augmented by two tubes firing directly forward. These tubes and the small pad from the elevators associated with them could keep four ready fighters on standby and launch them as required, and then cycle through bombers or fighters. Unlike the other tubes, they were away from the hangar where arming and fueling occurred and so allowed both activities to happen simultaneously, at least at a low rate. These changes and the addition of PriFly were the main modifications from the standard _Enterprise_ class in the _Huáscar._

The spinning hands of the flight deck crewers indicated they were about to load the first element of the flight. Lead 3 and Lead 4 went into the tubes first. Safety hatches slammed shut behind them, allowing them to bring their engines to test holding thrust. A moment later, the signal lights turned red -- two fighters had just been accelerated to 10km/s and, as they cleared the _Huáscar,_ the engines were brought to full military thrust, one fighter turning to port, one to starboard to clear the ship and each other.

Lar’shan was next in, confirming the tube was clear and safe. Once the indicator lights turned to green, he brought power up to test on his own fighter. “PriFly, Camel launching!”

“Confirm!”

The moment Stasia’s voice came back, Lar’shan hit the toggle which, through the interlinks, triggered the electromagnetic accelerators. Inertial dampers compensated for the acceleration, which exceeded 400g’s. A moment later he in space, banking to starboard and diving down. Somewhere behind him, Stasia would be cycling four more fighters up into Alert Five.

  
  
  


Captain Zhen’var appeared at the bridge hatchway, trying to keep her deep gasps for air and pounding heart under control after having sprinted from her quarters, not taking the deck until she had a clear grasp of the situation, though she immediately noted that Lar’shan and his wingman had just gone flying out the launch tubes.

“Captain, we’ve got two shuttles with Psi Corps markings coming in. I just vectored them for a landing and warned the Martians off from attacking. Two Earthforce ships are nearby and one, a Warlock, is coming in at full thrust on a course that will violate the Line of Control in,” He glanced at his console, “five minutes.”

“Captain has the deck! Hail the Warlock, inquire as to their intentions. What is her IFF, Commander?” She’d been woken up from a dead sleep and was already facing _another_ possible flashpoint.

“EAS _Styx,_ Captain!”

“Well, it could be worse. Bridge to Flight Control, two Earthforce-types shuttles coming in, clear the deck for landing. Commander Imra, as we have gotten _quite_ used to as of late, Ready Five, please.”

“Ready Five, Captain, in five minutes.” They had only been back onboard the _Huáscar_ for ten hours, but there was no complaint from Imra.

“Captain, this is Chief Héen. I’m spotting them in the lower troop bay with your permission, if I take them in Bay One we’re limited to Alert Ten for the Wing.”

“Good enough, Chief. They can accept a bit of cramped quarters for their shuttles. Move us up to the Line of Control, helm, get those shuttles aboard _now_ , before somebody does something we will all regret.”

“You have full military power, Captain,” Anna reported from engineering. She hadn’t needed specific orders for that.

“Straight on to the LOC, half-impulse,” Ensign Van’bur confirmed from the helm position, and they eased ahead to meet the shuttles. As they did, the Martians peeled away from them. The _Styx_ kept coming in, and abandoning the shuttles, they were turning toward what might be a real threat. Lar’shan and his fighters had the situation well in hand, driving sharply toward the Martians and interposing themselves, before weaving back around the much slower Starfuries and sending out the reminder that they had legally violated the LoC.

“Bring us to a stop on the Martian side of the line, Ensign. You have full freedom to manoeuvre to protect the ship without my order, but do _not_ cross that line.”

They came about to port, facing the Martians, and as they did, the shuttles lined up for final approach. When they did, the Starfuries peeled off, and when the final approach tractors caught shuttles the _Warlock_ finally broke her trajectory as well. The Captain of the _Styx_ had apparently been escorting the Psi Corps group in.

“Commander, you have the deck. I am going down to meet our new ‘guests’ myself. Comm Lieutenant Va’tor to meet me there.”

“Understood, Captain. Permission to use my discretion in standing down?”

“So granted, Commander. You have the ship. Well done, everyone.” As the doors to the bridge closed behind her, Zhen’var shook her head lightly. _And to think, how long has it been since I_ **_met_ ** _a Corps member, well, aside from Elia?_ A distant memory of Talia Winters flickered for a moment. That might well be the last. She still wasn’t even quite sure what had _happened_ to the woman, only that it had been a sore subject amongst the daytime command staff on Babylon 5.

When she arrived at the bay, she could see Lar’shan and his wingman come in close enough to give a waggling salute before peeling off to port and starboard to re-form aft of the _Huáscar,_ while the shuttles made their way in assisted by the landing tractors and indicator lights. Landing on their wheeled gear, they both quickly came to a stop, the design familiar for the Dilgar crewers in the bay, for it had been stolen from their people during the war and mass-produced by Earth in the subsequent decades. And out of it came the representatives of Psi Corps.

A younger man, only somewhat older than Elia, stepped out of the lead shuttle. He looked vaguely Eastern European and was dressed in a modern business suit, only the pin and gloves marked him. Following him was a woman maybe a bit more than half-decade older than Zhen’var’s mother. She was fairly clearly an Anglo-Indian by Zhen’var’s familarity with the ethnicities of her homeland. Behind her was a woman slightly older than she was, of indistinct but probably Latina ethnicity.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” The leading man asked.

“Granted. Welcome aboard the _Huáscar_ .” The Dilgar woman stepped forward, and bowed politely, offering _namaste_. ”I am Captain Zhen’var, and this is Lieutenant Va’tor.”

Va’tor, standing in place with the Flying Eye badge, bowed from the waist.

The man before them smiled. “I’m Marcel Szewczyk, MetaPol. Behind me is Doctor Nishita Cavanaugh, Medical Department, and Erika Flores, Legal Department. Thank you for covering us on our approach, Captain Zhen’var.”

“It was my duty to avoid any incidents. Pleased to meet you, Officer Szewczyk, Doctor Cavanaugh, Miss Flores. May I offer you the ship’s hospitality? The situation on Mars has degenerated drastically, I fear.”

“We heard the comms on approach, Captain,” Nishita said. “It is… Grim, unfortunately.”

“To put it mildly,” Marcel agreed in his mostly Polish accent. “We do accept your hospitality, Captain. Please lead on.”

A brief flash of communication connected the group with Va’tor. She was an alien mind to them, and they to her, but she had been learning from Elia and both sides wanted to be polite, but in this case the fulcrum of their talks was necessarily Zhen’var. Still, the exchange provided useful information which gave Nishita a small smile, at least.

“You believe you have all the children onboard, Captain?”

“My landing teams believe so, yes. After the experience in the tunnels, I would not have withdrawn my people without being reasonably sure that was the case. Children should be protected from such experiences.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“You are welcome.” Leading through the ship, the Dilgar woman led them to one of the conference rooms, directing them to sit. “Please. You have free use of the replicator while you are here. What do you seek of me?”

“We want to get our children and bring them back to safe facilities, Captain,” Nishita took the lead, lest it seem like too much of a Metapol operation. “The political ramifications of the attack on Mars make this more pressing, more urgent. And we do have a list of children present at the facility to compare against those aboard, to make sure there are no stragglers.”

“The list I can and will take, Doctor, but I am bound by oath to enforce Alliance law.” Zhen’var’s face had formed a grimace she couldn’t hide, and she went on, bleeding reluctance through her mental shields. “I will need to demonstrate family reunions to my superiors in the aftermath of an incident such as this, or our family courts will claim jurisdiction and attempt to place them with blood relatives. I _know_ that is not how the Corps works, before you protest, but my latitude is quite limited. I am under explicit orders. Can… you help me?”

The frustration from Marcel hit Va’tor like a wave, but he wasn’t leaving it at that as he faced Zhen’var. “Captain, that is very much not how the Corps works,” Marcel began. “Personally, your family had an _excellent_ reputation in the Grapevine, I mean, your mother was the only Captain whose ship Military Telepaths actively sought out assignment to. I know you’re not trying to hurt us. But this is a _serious_ matter. You’ve already let terrorists settle in your territory, are you going give them our children, too? They intentionally abandoned them in the tunnels after terrifying them!”

Nishita turned to Marcel and for a moment there was a silent conversation before she looked to Zhen’var. “Forgive us. You asked for our help, we can at least try. Erika…”

“Alliance law lets me file for an emergency injunction from an Alliance jurisdiction, which the ship is,” she offered, a more hopeful smile touching her face. “So I can at least let the litigation begin immediately.”

“That is good. Please, anything you can do to buy _time_ will help. I need a _family_ reunion, it does not have to be a _conventional_ family. Can you help me with _that_?” Zhen’var’s voice was hopeful, though hurt had flashed through her gaze when the Bloodhound had snapped at her.

Nishita opened her mouth to reply, but the words never got out of her lips when a trilling buzzer warned Zhen’var of an urgent communication.

“Captain, this is Commander Atreiad, I need to speak to you urgently.”

“Excuse me, please.” Standing, the captain moved to step into the hall before activating the sound-suppressing field on her omnitool. “Go ahead, Commander, privacy bubble engaged.”

“Mars Gov just ordered us to vacate Mars Sphere in the next five minutes or they will request Earthforce to intervene. It’s so abrupt that I don’t know what’s going on, and I half think they’re bluffing about the second part.”

“Something very ill-omened indeed. Send an emergency report to Portland, and prepare to break orbit. We cannot assume it is a bluff. Thank you, Commander.” She took a breath, and took advantage of the privacy bubble to whisper a soft prayer. “Captain Zhen’var to Commander Imra, emergency priority.”

“Captain, we are still holding at Ready Five. What do you need?” She didn’t even miss a beat.

“We are being expelled by Mars in five minutes. I want a stealth launch before then, you are about to be the officer on scene, Commander Imra, I am delegating local command to you. Load what-ever you need for possible long-duration independent operation in the next five minutes.” Zhen’var’s voice was clipped, clear, and tense. “The Martians are threatening to cooperate with Earthforce, the situation has degenerated beyond _Huáscar_ ’s ability to overtly influence.”

“Permission to depart in tandem and return to the system under stealth? I believe, Captain, my mission should be to resume contact with Psi Corps. At this juncture, we risk a breach otherwise.”

“I agree, and permission is granted. I wish I could remain to provide assistance, but irrationality appears to rule the response to our presence now.”

“Don’t worry Captain. I’m not the one who has to tell MetaPol they’re getting a free ride to somewhere they don’t want to go.”

“Which I will now be doing to avoid awkwardness. Coordinate with Commander Atreiad for your needs. Divine go with you, Commander Imra.” After the telltale blinked off on the interface, she turned back for the conference room. _Somehow, I do not think_ ** _this_** _is going to go well._


	6. Act 5

**Act 5**

 

Abebech Imra watched the _Huáscar_ disappear at warp, and began to give her own orders. “Set our course for the outer system, Warp Factor 8.”

Ca’elia confirmed the order, and soon the _Heermann_ was warping out of the system as well. At that high velocity it took only minutes, and then Imra gave her next order. “Cloak the ship.”

“Cloak the ship, aye,” Goodenough confirmed, and a minute later they were invisible. They were comfortably cloaked and certainly in no functional danger on the _Heermann,_ but that meant little. At some level, the abrupt Martian willingness to cooperate with Earth was a total catastrophe. That clearly required a solution, and Captain Zhen’var had authorised her to find one.

“Stop all engines,” Imra ordered. A moment later, they were out of warp, drifting at the outer edge of the Solar System.

“That Psi-Corps delegation didn’t arrive from Earth, did it, Goodenough?”

“No, Captain, it came from direction Io,” he answered after a minute of reviewing the records.

“Io. They arrived from the Gate, didn’t they?”

“Possibly, Captain, our sensor data doesn’t range that far, but that was certainly their heading.”

“We need to make contact with them separate from EarthGov or else something is going to go down here, and I’m not sure if it’s EarthGov or the Corps that will be starting it,” she said after a moment.

“L’tenant Ca’elia, set course for the Io gate at Warp Factor Six. Maintain cloak.”

Without further ado, they headed back into Earth space, except this time, invisible to Earth Alliance sensors. Abebech expected by long experience that once she could get into hyperspace with the _Heermann,_ she would be able to execute the next phase of her operation.

  


After the exchange with Captain Zhen’var, Dr. Cavanaugh had made her way to sickbay to see the children and the woman who had been taking care of them for the past few days. _Greetings, Commander,_ she glyphed, as the images of the children flooded in. Some were excellent young Psi-Corps kids who were as controlled as adults, some blooped like crazy. Such was a Sigma cadre.

 _Doctor Cavanaugh… I’m very sorry about this situation._ Elia straightened.

_It’s all right. I’ve been told about how you’ve helped us. I know by law there are things you cannot do in your current position, and good press is more important than anything else right now. Can Marcel and Erika come? I know they’re not trained to handle the children, but you weren’t, either._

_Of course they can,_ Elia glyphed back. _Among other things, I could use some sleep. Though first we’ve got some pretty serious things to discuss._

_That’s … yes, but I’m not sure which one is the most important._

_Children first. Do we have lists of definitive creche-parent relationships for them including second-in-line as a godparent equivalent?_

_Yes, I can provide that documentation right now,_ Nitisha agreed.

Marcel and Erika entered at that point, everyone’s conversations briefly distracted by the excitement of the children.

After a few minutes, Marcel turned his attention to Elia as well. _Commander. Thank you for working to get the children to a place of safety, even if it was temporary._

 _It’s my duty to Mother and Father, Officer Szewczyk_. _No thanks needed._

 _No, I really think they are,_ Marcel answered. _I’ve seen too many even with good intentions turn cruel and heartless toward their kin. That’s why even good intentions in blips I no longer care about. They don’t last._

_I understand. There were traffickers already operating on the surface of Mars. We have a dozen of them in the brig. Our security chief and a couple of Mha’dorn have been working on wearing them down._

_What they deserve, Elia, is…_

_Marcel,_ her glyph conveyed a bright cheery sentiment that rarely connected with what came next, _our security chief was a personal agent of Warmaster Jha’dur._

_Oh! Everything is in the most appropriate hands already. Maybe I can just sit back and sample mixed drinks from the replicator._

Elia giggled. _I will leave it at my absolute trust for Battlemaster Fei’nur._

_Good. I see Nishita has already taken care of the children… Elia, do you have any useful information on the attack?_

_Not yet, but the Captain knows something. Anna’s team found something out on Mars and she’s held it close to her chest since. Do you want me to try and ask? If it’s already been restricted, I won’t be able to tell you, but if it isn’t, I can fudge._

_...I’ll take what I can get. Please._ Marcel felt a little bit like a caged tiger at the moment, though the thought of one of Deathwalker’s agents working the traffickers made him want to giggle.

 _I think trafficking has increased lately,_ Erika observed, interjecting. _Legal has gotten a considerable uptick in related cases and frankly the centres aren’t at all obvious._

 _That is correct,_ Marcel agreed _The terrorists had to go and distract us at a critical time._

 _I should raise the possibility of an extrauniversal source,_ Elia glyphed.

_If you can get any evidence on that, either from this interrogation or another, that would be critical. Surely you can share that without restrictions?_

_Stopping the slave trade? The Alliance wouldn’t exist if it was throwing up roadblocks between me and that, its creators would help me tear it down. Yeah, if there is a link, you’ll hear about it,_ Elia promised.

 _Well, I think we’re all on our way to making lemonade, then._ Marcel thought for a moment about what else to talk to. _Any other human telepaths on the ship, or is it just you and all of your Dilgar friends, Elia?_

Elia got a taut smile on her face. _Let’s put it this way: Oh boy is there ever._

  
  


Abebech had relied on Ca’elia’s brilliant piloting, the Dilgar woman with ice water in her veins, bringing them straight behind a liner through the Io gate with only a few hundred meters of clearance. Goodenough had seen the small, slightly satisfied look on his Commander’s face and knew that she’d found a keeper when it came to the new helmswoman.

Since then, they’d started a series of sweeps, drifting in hyperspace near the gate, but going steadily out from the beacon.. And not toward the beacon network. This was making Jonathan a little nervous, but Abebech was doing the calculations herself.

After somewhere around six hours, they had left the network completely, Abebech sitting with a mug of coffee in her hands, watching the screen intently through her sunglasses.

Every so often, Jonathan stole a look at the complicated inertial navigation program running on the _Heermann_ ’s mainframes to try and keep track of where they were.

Then Abebech raised her gloved left hand and pointed a finger at the screen, showing only the crazed, mottled reality of hyperspace. “There. Come about oh-four-nine mark one. Ahead one half impulse power.”

“ _Oh-four-niner mark one, one half impulse power,_ ” Ca’elia sang out. The ship surged ahead and raced down the tiny blip Abebech had so casually pointed to.

It rapidly resolved into a modified _Hyperion_ class cruiser. And they knew they were coming, Jonathan could see it from the way power spiked. “Captain, they’re charging weapons!”

“Lieutenant Mehmet, hail them and inform them we have come to discuss the repatriation of the children from Mars. One will beam aboard, unarmed.”

“ _Aye-Aye, Captain.._ ” He shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

“Helm all stop,” she directed next.

“All stop Aye,” Ca’elia confirmed again, glancing to Jonathan, who just shrugged. _One, unarmed, of course it will be Abebech, of course she’ll be fine._

“...We accept your parley, they signal, Sir. Captain Rhee, Commanding.”

“Captain Rhee.” She rolled the name on her tongue. “Very good then, inform the Transporter Chief to be prepared for one beam-out. One only.”

  


When the flash of the transporter effect faded from the bridge, what remained was a gaunt, female individual of greatly above average height, skin an odd, unhealthy tone of bleached black that didn't quite qualify as mocha. She was in the full dress whites of a Stellar Navy Commander, unarmed, her hair sharply yanked back with a rigid level of control that, considering the kinky mass, must have been downright painful. Her eyes were concealed under an immense pair of ray-bans and when she turned to the side, it revealed her black-gloved hands in silhouette. Her mind was the most uncomfortable sense of them all, well-contained, highly disciplined, able to brush aside anyone on the bridge, it nonetheless slipped along like it was vaguely wrong, like the difference between skin and old leather.

  
Her lips pursed into a faint smile. She spoke, aloud, though everyone on the bridge knew she didn't have to, but clearly rigidly controlled herself to the point she would not admit even the slightest contact. "Apologies for the dramatic entrance," the voice offered with an faint tinge of old Afrika and plenty of aristocrat. "but I felt it necessary to come personally to make sure this doesn't turn into a disaster for the both of us."  
  
Captain Rhee wasn't in her chair, instead she stood with her knees bent in a fighting crouch in response to the unfamiliar sight but known danger of a matter transport.  Her bridge crew and marines had taken cover positions and had hands on weapons, but upon seeing Abebech, she stood up straight and ordered her crew to stand down.  
  
"No apologies necessary, though I would caution against such sudden entrances in the future. I'm curious, if you'll indulge me; what are you doing working for them?  Commander Saumarez I understand, but you... " Captain Rhee was a tall woman for her Korean ancestry, fit and athletic, at a glance worthy of her post.  
  
"A favour to an old friend. Our mental lineages intertwine, but only distantly, Captain." Abebech inclined her head. "My universe has known not centuries but millennia of violence between espers and normals."  
  
"I see.  You're not here on behalf of the Alliance then, or they would have more of an institutional clue.  Whose diplomatic credentials am I currently accepting?"  
  
"Captain Zhen'var's. I know her character, Captain. I managed to speak with Commander Saumarez before the _demarche_ from the Mars Government forced the withdrawal of the _Huáscar_ , and I understand that the children had formal caretakers, foster parents essentially, is this not correct?"  
  
Captain Rhee Sueng breathed a sigh of relief. "Ah. I was concerned about a distinct... Nth party.  Having multiple universes with a truly staggering number of intelligence services and unknown entities is sending our intelligence branch crawling up walls.  You are correct, our children had house-parents before the attack."  
  
"Can the parents be brought to a rendezvous with the _Huáscar_? I know you were preparing a pursuit to recover the negotiation team that's trapped aboard. You will give Captain Zhen'var legal cover and moral certainty if she can see family reunifications, her own rigid sense of honour will handle the rest even if it's just a single pair of those who survived so we are not talking about the reunification of all--it will still be all the children getting handed over. I know this entails risk, Captain. It entails your trusting the Captain and myself with the lives of telepaths who are not in the business of war. However, I will remain aboard your cruiser until it is finished."  
Trust was hard. This woman had locked herself down harder than was normally possible. She was clearly methodical. She was also offering herself as a hostage.  
  
Sueng tried to probe this disturbing women's defenses, but she was strong and frankly locked down tighter than any Psi Cop she'd ever seen. Not even the shape of her mind--other than the sense of Otherness--was detectable through her defenses.  Her first instinct was to say no.  She didn't trust the Dilgar, and she didn't trust this person.  But Elia Saumarez was still in the Corps, and she could be trusted even if she was in involuntary exile.   
  
"We do have several of their house parents,” Sueng elaborated. “We managed to recover them successfully when the Bloodhounds arrived.  We cannot confirm the existence of this ship but we can send a shuttle.  However, would it be acceptable if I provided an armed escort?  They've been through... a nightmare, and would feel better being protected by our own people."  
  
"Yes." Abebech straightened her head back. "Yes, they may arrive armed."  
  
One could tell she was meeting Sueng's gaze through her glasses. One didn't need to see her eyes to feel it. Her breathing was barely visible, the only skin she showed was above her tightly starched collar. "You have the word of Abebech Imra, Captain. I know my commander."  


"Excellent.  If you're willing to accept our hospitality, it is extended.  We have guest quarters for visiting dignitaries that I'll make available for you, and if you wish, you can join us for dinner in the officer's mess."  Sueng had to consider for a moment how many to send.  She wanted enough men to secure the safety of the Education telepaths she was sending, and possibly to hot extract all others, but not enough to be considered a threat.  After a moment, she decided.  Captain Rhee activated her comm unit and spoke into it.  
  
"Lieutenant Gonzales, I need four of your best marines, preferably above P9 to escort some VIPs.  I'll brief them in thirty minutes."  
  
"I will accept your offer, Captain." A thin smile crossed her lips. "I could stand the entire time I am here, but it would be a trifle pathetic." She raised her own communicator. "Commander Goodman, you will be escorting a shuttle to the _Huáscar_ 's position while I remain aboard the cruiser. Expect the shuttle to depart the cruiser in about forty-five minutes. When it does, proceed with the rendezvous immediately and then make haste to the Huáscar. Understand that I will not further be in communication, until you return at the completion of the shuttle's mission."

  
"Confirmed, Commander. Heerman Actual, standing by."

Her subordinate's voice didn't sound in the slightest bit concerned, and with no further ado, Abebech pulled off her emergency comm-badge and presented it to Rhee.  


"Oh I wouldn't call it pathetic Commander just... well, it would be rude of us." She gave Imra a wry grin and took the badge "If an emergency arises due to outside intervention, I will of course hand this back to you."  
  
"I have no doubt," Imra murmured. "I shall appreciate being the guest of your wardroom. I can tell at least a few stories, and I don't eat that much. Can someone show me to the quarters? I don't want to waste more of your time when you're preparing for the shuttle launch."  


"Lieutenant Popov, would you be so kind as to show Commander Imra to the guest quarters?  I think Navigator Etsiddy can keep an eye on the local void in your absence."  


"Aye Captain!  Commander, if you would follow?" the electronic warfare officer said in a Russian accent, stepping out from behind his seat.  
  
"Lead on, L'tenant." She gestured with one hand. "Thank you for your courtesy, Captain. We will find a way together." As she was stepping out toward the exit from the bridge, she paused for a moment. "Just to make absolutely clear, you'd never use sleepers on another telepath in any circumstance whatsoever? Even for me there are many lies and much disinformation attending to your situation."  
  
"No.  Never.  Those drugs are a cruel abomination.  If we had to drug a telepath--or more likely a telekinetic-- to ensure the safety of others, we would use sedatives instead."  
  
Rhee could feel Imra probing the answer, and in that brief moment of connection, the confirmation of the obvious, was left behind the faint, unnerving whisper that Imra was more concerned about the consequences for Rhee and her ship than she was for herself. "Everything will be fine then." With a mild expression, she turned back to follow the Lieutenant.

  
  


The next night, they were still ten hours out from the Earth Alliance frontier. Zhen’var was sipping at a mug of decaffinated chai, leaned back against the bulkhead in her bunk - watching the stars slowly drift by through the viewport which replaced an actual transparency in-between working on a redshifted datapad. Everything seemed to have gone utterly _wrong_ so quickly, and her Alliance still seemed to be drifting to the wrong side in the war she feared was already beginning.

The alarm softly trilled. “ _Lieutenant Commander Elia Saumarez_ ,” The computer announced, though the voice was damped for the evening.

“Lights to one-quarter. Unlock.” She set the tea down and reached to pull on a robe. “Come in, Commander!”

Elia stepped in, off duty. She didn’t have her uniform jacket on, just a robe she’d pulled over, but her gloves were there as always. Her hair was let down, and she looked tired. “I hope you don’t mind, but since they’re here, I at least let Doctor Cavanaugh take over watching the kids. She was quite touched by the Dilgar having given them all Mha’dorn badges.”

“You know very well anyone who emigrated would be given the same badge you wear… though our public relations remain almost hilariously poor.” Zhen’var smiled fractionally, and gestured to a chair. “Sit, anything from the replicator you would like, Elia. I do not mind, either. I think that is the best place for them, at least until the war begins in earnest. That… makes me fear I will have to make another hard choice, with even fewer standing with me this time..”

“I don’t think it’s that bad. I think we’ve found people who know right from wrong,” Elia answered. “And if not, eh, _Viva Huáscar,_ right?” A wry, if mirthless, grin.

“If I die half as well as so many Dilgar have these last decades…” Zhen’var sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Why does no-one else _see_ what we do?”

“It’s pretty obvious. They’re not as awesome as you and your mom, Zhen’var,” Elia said, flopping down onto the bunk next to her. “I don’t think you need to think about the worst, Captain. I’ve got evidence from the Psi Corps delegation covering creche parent relationships to every single child on the ship.”

“Really? I can _use_ that to demonstrate family reunions if we can re-unite them...it is _admissible_ evidence, Elia?” The woman’s short depressive fit cleared, and her eyes lit once again.

“Thaat… Might be harder. I’m not sure how it will work. But I left a summary with Erika and she’s the one who will be speaking to a judge. I’m not quite sure what went down, but she got herself admitted to the bar in the Alliance.”

“Corps people are clever. Present company assuredly included, El’sau.” Zhen’var grinned, flashing teeth in honest amusement. “It is an opening, we will take it.”

“I’m glad.” She lapsed into silence for a moment, and shifted a bit. “Captain, what did we find during the search of the planet? For evidence of the terrorists, I mean.”

“Something I will push all effort in pursuing, Elia.” _But I cannot say more than that with how explosive it may be._ She tried to project the thought with all the effort she could muster.

Elia nervously ducked a look around even Zhen’var’s quarters. And then, very quickly, leaning in on herself, she pulled her right glove off, holding it almost nervously in her left hand. The skin of her hand was utterly pale, unexposed to normal sunlight over the whole course of her life. It was delicate, because of it, her plain nails short-cut.

“You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had outside of the Corps, Zhen’var,” she whispered, and that was sincere, as much as there was a second layer of intent in the action.

“Thank you, Elia.” She’d averted her eyes when she saw the other woman pulling her glove off, an audibly sharp intake of breath echoing through the room. Zhen’var was _nervous_ , though not afraid.

Elia let her hand hang, an invitation even as her face delicately pinked. There were plenty of ways to misinterpret this considering they were both sitting on Zhen’var’s bed. But that was of course not the point.

The captain reached out with her own hand, turning her gaze to Elia’s, not looking _down_ at her friend’s hand out of a polite sense of modesty.

Elia smiled as their skin touched, and didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Her expression turned, but she kept a brave look on her lips. _Thank you. I understand._ And that was it. She didn’t let the gesture linger, gently pulling her hand away after that and quickly covering it. But it was enough.

“I am sorry, El’sau. I have already said too much, but you know my fears now.”

Elia raised a gloved finger, and smiled gently, though sadly. “We’ll manage.”

“ _We_ will, yes. Thank you, my friend.”

Zhen’var had barely gone to sleep after the quiet, dark encounter with Elia, when the alarm on her computer trilled with the warning of an incoming communication of high urgency.

“A Captain’s work is never done…” Checking the header codes would inform whether the robe or uniform jacket would be needed, as she rolled out of bed and waved the lights brighter.

The code signalled that it was _Heermann_ Actual seeking to reach them, bounced through a League hyperspace tachyon relay, no less.

That decided it, uniform jacket it was. Abech Imra’s poise was something that her commanding officer _tried_ to emulate at the best of times, as Zhen’var put herself together and activated the comm terminal. “ _Huascar_ Actual, go ahead _Heermann_ Actual.”

“Captain, this is Lieutenant Commander Goodenough,” the image resolved into the crisp professionalism, seaman’s face and pony-tail of Commander Imra’s executive officer. “Commander Imra beamed herself aboard a Psi-Corps vessel laying off the network in hyperspace near Earth. She told me to convey to you that she was offering herself as a hostage for the safety of a group of creche-parents, and a Psi Corps vessel would make a rendezvous with you carrying them aboard, so you have legal cover for the return of the children.”

“I left her as senior officer on scene, very well, Commander Goodenough. The creche-parents of the cadre children… yes, I can use that to satisfy a review of my actions. I would have _hoped_ that it would not be necessary for Commander Imra to put herself in such a situation, but I understand why. You have my agreement to her plan, Commander.”

“I’m sending a coded transmission of the rendezvous coordinates. Captain, Commander Imra was pretty confident Psi Corps would have attacked the _Huáscar_ otherwise to retrieve the children and the negotiating team. They’re taking this very seriously. She wanted to get everything on the right foot. And of course, as usual, she doesn’t have a lick of fear.”

“I do not believe the Corps quite knows my mettle nor my attitude.” His superior officer had a note of annoyance in her accented voice, her eyes narrowing. “Once I can prove a family bond, I can return the children. That has _always_ been the objective.”

“Understood, Captain. The burst should be coming through now. We’ll hold position and keep tracking the Psi Corps ship, but I just do not feel the Commander is in any great danger,” Jonathan replied after a moment.

“I trust your judgement, Commander. We will get underway for the rendezvous at once. The sooner this diplomatic nightmare ends, the better. Keep up the good work.”

  
  


The next day, about fourteen hours in, they arrived at the coordinates bordering the tripoint between old Darglan space, the Earth Alliance and the Koulani regime.

Sitting in her position on the bridge, Captain Zhen’var spoke softly; “Helm, all stop. Any local contacts on sensors?”

“Nothing in realspace, Captain,” Fera’xero reported. “I can try deep tachyon scans to attempt hyperspace detections, but the false positive rate is very high.”

“Rig for silent running. The ship we are to meet knows we should be here _about_ this time, and we want to attract no other attention. Keep up your passive scanning, just in case.”

“Understood Sir, rigged for silent running,” Lieutenant Orsallian confirmed at Ops.

The minutes ticked by, and Zhen’var frowned slightly after most of an hour had gone by. “Stand down the crew by rotation to take a quick meal. We may well be here a while.”

It was about twenty minutes later that Fera’xero looked up from his console, vocoder flashing. “Captain, hyperspace jump-point forming twelve kiloklicks off the port bow, one one five mark two.”

“Call the crew back to stations. Are they are our intended rendezvous partners, Commander?” Zhen’var wasn’t rattled, calm as she took the news calmly, setting her mug of tea into the shockproof holder beside her command chair.

Sixth time at stations in five days. Will had some stubble on his face at this point as he cast off for the secondary bridge. Violeta returned to the bridge, lunch abandoned half-eaten. The usual vagarities of their Captain’s willingness to sound stations at the slightest risk.

“Yes, Captain. The ship is a standard _Asimov_ class liner in hull configuration, but she has power bands suggesting she has been modified into a warship,” Fera’xero brought the detail display readout up on tactical.

“Hmm. She has many more sensor and observation masts than usual as well. Interesting _and_ clever of the Corps. Hail them.”

“Receiving signal back, Captain,” L’tenant Tor’jar reported. “They are identifying themselves as the Transport Department Ship _Nephthys._ They have come to arrange familial unifications per negotiated agreement.”

“Understood. Inform them we stand ready to receive shuttles.” _Divine, but let this soon be over._

  
  
  


The reunifications were almost stupidly happy. _Most_ of the creche-parents had survived, and there was someone familiar with all of the kids present at some point in their upbringings. Elia was socialising with more human telepaths than she had frankly ever _thought_ would happen again in her life.

Zhen’var made herself present for the initial pleasantries. They were not a definitive outcome, however. The parents might be aboard, but the question was how to satisfy the legal necessities.

For that, Erika had followed her injunction up with a request for a preliminary hearing with a judge of the Alliance Admiralty Court, 2nd Circuit, to try out the legal argument she expected to end the situation as rapidly as possible.

In the meanwhile, Fei’nur had asked for a meeting.

Interest piqued, Captain Zhen’var invited her to her ready room within the hour. The old marine _rarely_ formally asked to speak with her, and it implied she’d been successful, as the ship’s captain smiled. “Battlemaster Fei’nur, come and be at ease. You requested to speak with me.”

“Captain.” She offered a salute. “The interrogation has been completed. Reputation alone sufficed to break the weaker ones, and we leaned on the rest from that. It should not result in any of the human law-suits.” _There are no bruises!_

 _Oh thank goodness. I was not ready for an Inspector General Audit…_ “Give your report, Battlemaster. This information will no doubt be useful. I do not care if it is problematic.”

“The slavers worked for an organisation called the Trading Concordate. It is extrauniversal and very interested in trafficking telepaths. The prices are so high as to disrupt the trafficking market which already exists in the Earth Alliance, Captain.” Fei’nur managed to nicely combine stiffness and a hint in her voice of what she wanted to do to these people, probably simply on general principle. Warmaster Jha’dur had hated pirates and slavers, too.

“Do you have a written report, Battlemaster? If so, I wish you to give a copy to the MetaPol agent aboard. They will have an extreme interest in such a thing. The original shall go to headquarters with my report under a separate cover. _Excellent_ work, Battlemaster.”

“Certainly, Captain. I recall they moved to the conference suites?”

“Correct, Battlemaster. I will be along to speak with them later today in the event they need any clarification. This is _your_ intelligence triumph, Fei’nur. I will not seek to share it.”

Stiffening to attention, the older woman sharply saluted. “I shall obey, Captain.”

Zhen’var smiled, and gently shook her head. “Dismissed, Battlemaster Fei’nur. Again, thank you, and well done.”

Spinning on her heel, the marine commander crisply departed, only pausing for a moment after the hatch had closed. _The Captain is a very strange woman sometimes, though it is not often unwelcome._ Tucking her report under an arm, Fei’nur moved off through the corridors of the _Huáscar_.

When she arrived, the children and creche parents were gathered in the main auditorium, and Fei’nur paused by the back, where Marcel was standing, mostly out of sight. “Officer…”

“A moment please,” he whispered softly. “I’m watching something I’ve never seen before.”

“Ah, of course.” She glanced at front of the auditorium. Erika Flores was there, speaking to a human in the clothes of a Judge through the telelink feed. Fei’nur’s brow furrowed in confusion. _Something he’s never seen before…? She’s just talking to a Justice, isn’t she…? Oh. **Right.** Human Mha’dorn aren’t allowed to do… well, anything! _

“Under the law of the sea, emergency rescues should not prejudice national jurisdiction, Your Honour. The precedent is established in Alliance Admiralty Law under AUCA-15-10. The children were rescued from domes; it cannot be considered a case outside of the scope of Admiralty law because the law in _Stansted v. Levin_ clearly establishes that under the Alliance courts, the jurisdiction includes any artificial structure which, by damage, may admit a vacuum no different than a grounded barge is still under Admiralty law when fixed on a sandbank on the surface of a planet. Your Honour, the children were rescued from domes on a planet that requires regular shipments of oxygen--the domes are structures dependent on artificial intervention to sustain life. The _Huáscar_ brought the children aboard in the context of that emergency situation, and they should be released to go with their families now that practical and safe conveyance is available. Family reunification in the case of shipwreck and rescue in the void is a summary matter, and accordingly I am requesting a summary ruling that the children may depart with their parents aboard the conveyance we have so provided.”

 _I actually mostly understood that! At least the last part…_ Fei’nur respected the request that she remain there silent, but she’d never seen a court proceeding _herself_ before, if one did not count summary drumhead trial in the Imperium’s army.

“Well, young lady,” the Judge looked over the filing she had made, and back at the assembled. “The reasoning is sound enough, if a unique interpretation of the legal status of non-self-sustaining habitats. A summary motion prejudices the outcome of any appeal by removing the children from the jurisdiction of the state, you know.” He chuckled softly. “But it was an Act of War, or rather terrorism, and I’m prepared to enter the summary judgement accordingly. Get the kids back to somewhere pleasant, Ms. Flores. They’ve been guests of the Navy for long enough. It should log in the court system in about thirty minutes, and I’ll file the _Huáscar_ ’s JAG officer as a recipient.”

“Thank you, Your Honour!” Despite how simple and straightforward it had been, she looked almost unimaginably pleased.

The old judge grinned and winked. “With that, that I make the summary finding that the children were rescued under the character of shipwrecks and should be rendered to their families, citizens of the Earth Alliance, without delay. With that finding, this proceeding is hereby closed.” the gavel smacked down, the screen went blank, and Erika jumped up in the air in triumph.

“I _think_ that was brilliant…?” Fei’nur murmured, blinking at all the legal manouvering required to produce such a simple and, to her, obvious result. “Officer, before you depart to escort the kits back…”

“I almost wonder if she was showing off a little,” Marcel shook his head. “Yes, Colonel Fei’nur?” His look left no real doubt that he knew something was up… But nor did a telepath go around finishing sentences for people, if they were wise.

She held out a locked folio. “My report on the interrogation of the attempted kidnappers. It is _alarming_. I believe the Mha’dorn will be enacting several planned additional safeguards on the basis of it alone. Multiversal backing _with_ enough support to completely up-end the prices of the native… market.” She said the last word with clearly revolted distaste, for the fact that they went after alien and thus potentially Dilgar telepaths had been enough to seal the deal in her mind.

Marcel took the folio, his expression turning bleak for a moment. Then he forced a smile. “After all of this time, leaving myself convinced absolutely no-one would help us, I find assistance from the Dilgar. Thank you, Colonel. I suspect you may grasp how important this is to us.”

“Even the Supreme Warmaster would have helped you for her own reasons, if we had successfully kidnapped and interrogated your Assistant Director in New York as planned.” Fei’nur didn’t even _flinch_. “We didn’t know your situation. We didn’t know _anything_ about Earth, but that is the past. Is there anything else, Officer?”

“Oh, so you got the information personally, too. No, no,” he had a big grin now. “That will be all. Give Captain Zhen’var my regards as well. The hospitality has been truly wonderful. I’m not about to get upset over a Deputy Director from thirty years ago having nothing actually happen to her.”

“I shall. If your people have learned the military arts, it would not be unwelcome to someday fight with you.” Fei’nur nodded her head, sweeping the room with a wary gaze reflexively, before turning to leave.

 

Nah’dur was helping with the final handover as the last of the creche parents were departing with the remainder of the children. They were bringing them over to the Psi-Corps ship in a return trip from one shuttle, the first two having sufficed for everyone else. A small waiting room was present next to the main hangar bay, and Nah’dur had retreated to it when she saw Dr. Cavanaugh there, packing up a final duffle.

“Doctor,” Nah’dur greeted her nonchalantly, stuffing her hands into her lab coat.

“Surgeon-Commander.” Nishita greeted her in return, then tilted her head “Is something bothering you?”

“Not in the conventional sense of making me upset, but I did have an observation.” She glanced around and pulled the door shut. “You _did_ experiment on the children. I’m not going to raise a fuss over it, of course. They are also very well cared for, so I don’t see an ethical issue.”

“But others might, if I understand your Alliance, and indeed most of our own galaxy correctly.” Dr. Cavanaugh took in a deep breath and sighed “Our own world has a rather _unfortunate_ history with things like human experimentation and informed consent.  Typically, the subjects are thoroughly otherized and dehumanized.  It is markedly different in this case.”

“I noticed. It is surprising, actually. During the war, we called aliens animals and invented propaganda around this precisely to overcome the mammalian biological programming. To your own kits? It is remarkable -- hard to understand compassion and humanity existing hand in hand with experimentation, Doctor.”

“The reality is, children are going to keep being born who are telekinetic, or who can phase into hyperspace, or who can see the future.  The human mind isn’t equipped to handle telepathy very well, let alone that; and no animal model exists to understand the phenomena, or treat the resulting psychological instability.  We develop treatments as safely as we can using animals and adult volunteers as a safety check, but ultimately we have to do efficacy testing.  There simply isn’t a choice.  It’s because we love them and want them to have lives worth living that we run those experiments.  We’re just trying to clean up the Vorlons' _fucking mess_.”

“Nobody asks what’s left when the war is over. I remain very unimpressed by the Vorlons.” Nah’dur smiled, her lips curling to show her teeth for a moment. “Thank you for the precis. I am … Understanding of the position.”

“You’re welcome.” Nishita smiled back, not showing her teeth, uncertain how a show of teeth would translate with a carnivore and not wanting to tempt fate “I too am not impressed with them.  They created us as tools; weapons to be used, but _we are not tools_.” she chuckled “Not being impressed might be something of an understatement.”

“I wish fortune for your people, Doctor, especially because you are brave enough to hold no truck with your creators. I’m collaborating with El’sau on a few projects you may or may not be aware of -- but I hope you will see the fruits soon enough.”

“And I yours.  You’re people have done well by ours, you in particular.  You may not fully realize it, but you are excellent with children and helped them considerably.  They’ll keep those pins you gave them forever, I think.  We won’t forget that.  And I look forward to seeing what you and Elia come up with.  If we survive the next few…” Nishita  hand-waved away the timescale, not wanting to think about it “maybe we can form a lasting partnership.”

“Perhaps we can. May your den be secure, Doctor. I do believe it is time for your shuttle to depart, so I’ll be glad to show you myself. Your presence, to me, has been welcome.”

“Yes thank you.  If I’m not on that shuttle there’s no telling what havoc Marcel will unleash.” Nishita grinned, mostly joking about the havoc, “It’s been a pleasure working with you, and I certainly wouldn’t mind the company.”

  


Two days later, the Psi Corps children and families safely away, the _Heermann_ met up with the _Huáscar_ in orbit of the Darglan homeworld and returned to her dock. Commander Imra was aboard, apparently no worse for wear. She returned to her quarters without seeking Zhen’var out, however.

Her Captain respected her apparent desire for privacy, at least at first. They would need to speak before she finalized her report on the entire operation, but offering oneself up as a hostage was, to Zhen’var, both stressful and worthy of appreciation. She sent a request to Imra’s and Goodenough’s electronic schedulers, requesting their reports on the events during the detached operation.

The next day, when Zhen’var was off-duty, the door buzzer trilled to her cabin.

Working at her small writing desk, the Dilgar woman looked up with a small frown ghosting across her face. _The faults of an open door policy, I suppose._ “Come ahead!” She’d managed to find a way to make the computer stop introducing everyone by name and title, at least.

“Captain,” Imra said as she walked in, dressed starkly in black from toe to neck, off-duty herself, and looking impressive for it. “You wanted my report, and I wrote it, but I felt you wanted more as well.”

“I did wish to speak with you, but I did not wish to push the point. Sit, please. Any refreshments? Thank you for coming to talk with me, anyhow.”

“You’re quite welcome. No refreshments are needed, Captain.” She moved to sit in the offered chair, crossing her legs lightly.

“I regret that it was necessary for you to take the actions you did, though understandable. What are your impressions of the Psi Corps, Commander?”

“They are armed to a far greater extent than anyone realises, and maintain the will and resilience and planning to prosecute a war. Morale is high, despite poor odds if the government were to turn against them. The ship I encountered and the ship you encountered are surely but a fraction of their strength,” Abebech answered, so much of her facial expressions lost behind the glasses.

“They have had much incentive to protect themselves. Unfortunately, I think their efforts will soon be _needed_. I fear more that we may be on the wrong side if open conflict breaks out.” She didn’t specify _which_ side that was, sighing as she reached for her mug of chai. “It was good to see the children so happy to see their parents again, at least.”

“I hope they will grow to be adults,” Abebech said on a long exhale. “We will know the answer sooner than I should wish. I was fine, of course.”

“I trust your judgement, Commander. I merely regret the necessity. At least the crew has some time to recover from being run ragged these last few days. Being able to trust _utterly_ your judgement when _Heermann_ is detached… it is invaluable, Commander. I shall be mentioning your superlative initiative in dispatches.”

“I have some experience, Captain,” she said at a murmur. “I am honoured, as ever, to bring the _Huáscar_ to a more perfect form for our trials together.”

“I shall not ask, Commander. If you wish to volunteer information, so be it, but I respect the privacy of your past.”

“If I need to volunteer it, I will. Until then… I serve of my volition and that is what matters. Still, you know, in my universe, something similar happened very long ago to the telepaths of my universe. They fought back and won. The ramifications of that story… Have hardly finished unfolding.”

“Given how they are treated… I hope they find a victory here, though the ramifications will be equally enormous.”

“Speaking as a telepath, Captain, I think I would rather die than live like one here. Of course, in reality, death is rather terrible, so I suppose I would adapt.”

“They have. I fear in so doing, the Psi Corps became warped, twisted, and riven into factionalism, as Earthgov kept trying to _use_ it… but by Mother Durga, it is better than the alternative telepaths face here. ”

“I don’t disagree. Ah, well. The war has begun, we both know it. ISN won’t stop showing new footage of the latest terrorist attack. It is a rolling drumbeat. Makes you almost long for one of those old multinational Empires to keep the peace, doesn’t it?” Abebech seemed distant for a moment. “One can hardly imagine Austro-Hungary or the Ottoman Empire passing the metasensory registration act.”

“If not for the contact with the Centauri, Earth would have overturned itself in war. If not for the Dilgar, the Earth Alliance never would have gained the confidence that led to war with the Minbari…” She sighed tiredly, dullness settling into her eyes as she glanced over to the case of medals hung on the side of her desk. “Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of their leaders. I suspect am a background story in all this as well. There is enough sensationalism involved, after all.”

“And when it is all over, they want to tear each other’s throats out…” She rose, slowly. “Well, such is the way of humans, and most other species, your’s included. But you are a different mettle, Captain, and that is why I follow you personally.” She turned to go.

“Thank you, Commander Imra. _Thank you_. And if I may, that was actually quite charitable towards my people. Most think we want to tear _other_ species’ throats out by default.” She dared to offer a _hint_ of a smile, still trying to feel her way around interacting with the strange woman who commanded the _Heermann_.

“Well, true or not, I’d never hold _that_ against you.” She smiled a secretly bemused smile. “Have a good evening, Captain.”

“Yourself as well, Commander.”

 

 

**Tag**

 

 

Zhen’var had called the ‘great council’, the assemblage of every department head including those under Elia, for her announcement and discussion. She wanted to make sure that her objectives were clear and that the message was taken for what was truly important.

“Good morning everyone, I intend to get started after everyone is comfortable, so please, replicate away.” Their first mission _had_ gone well, and she watched everyone milling about as they moved to their seats, laying a few flimsies out before herself in neat piles. _First the debrief, then the upending._

A collection of snacks and coffee soon appeared. CWO Héen and MCPO Dugan were off to the side with coffee, talking to each other and SCPO Ashleigh, the Chief of Boat on the _Heermann_. The rest were fully commissioned officers, but their presence was unusual on Alliance ships where it seemed non-coms were rarely integrated into the command structure. Also noteworthy were the uniforms of Lar’shan and Fei’nur, the two Marines in the room, one with the wings of a Marine aviator. The rest were naval officers.

Will stepped over to Zhen’var’s side. He had been briefed in advance, and was still wrapping his head around part of what she was going to say. “Have you noticed before that the Alliance seems to have a problem with its noncoms?”

“They give them the ranks, then the officers show no signs of using them even as a _resource_ , just as gears in the machine that is the crew, yes.” She sipped at her chai.

“That’s gotta change. We’ll pay for it otherwise. The crew of the _Aurora_ is brilliant… But since they got to determine their ranks by fiat when they got started, _everyone_ with the slightest bit of ambition got to be an officer. I explained it to Captain Andreys before I was reassigned. But at least _we’ve_ got a real winner in Dugan for Chief of the Boat.”

“More than that, Will. We have skills, people we won’t even _recognize_ as being as valuable as they truly are. I am going to _find_ those people.”

“I guess we’re going to start today… About ready to get going, I think?”

“I think so. Go ahead and sit down yourself.” With that, Zhen’var cleared her throat. “Again, everyone, good morning. For the duration of this meeting, we will be discussing matters like the professionals we are, rank does not matter, and reference shall not be made. We have just come through a very active shakedown cruise, and I will be opening the floor to discussion - what did we do _well_ , what did we do _badly_ , and how do we fix it? I can certainly start - I do not think I had to call you all to stations so many times that Will was starting to consider bringing a pillow to AIO.”

There was laughter. A few officers glanced around, trying to get a sense for how this would go. Arterus took a half-step forward. “Captain, it seemed it was necessary to guarantee we were never taken by surprise if events turned hostile,” he offered.

“No ranks. I mean that. Nothing said in these hot washes will ever affect someone negatively. _Nothing_.” Zhen’var’s eyes scanned the room. “Now, if that were the case, was it necessary to keep the crew at stations so long? A relaxed condition with the crew near their stations would have been better, if we had one. Boxed rations and so on to let the crew eat and sleep at stations, perhaps?”

Violeta thought about it. She actually found the meeting kind of cool, not what she expected from Zhen’var’s disciplinarian reputation at all. “What if we find a way to give ourselves more warning time? We can set Condition Two -- Code Yellow, Condition Yellow -- modified ZEBRA and have limited movement through the ship.”

“I like that idea, let us build off that. What options _do_ we have to give ourselves more warning time? You will have to _tell_ me, I _did_ spend my entire career learning how Earthforce ships worked. Alliance ships are something of a new experience.” Zhen’var smiled, flashing teeth as she reached for a samosa.

“Using fighters as a scouting element,” Stasia ventured abruptly, looking up from the knot with the non-com Chiefs. “I mean, why not. They’ve got warp drives. We could even use the runabouts as well, more powerful sensors. The new bay configuration could let us run a continuous CAP.”

“Is it something we can do as is, Ms. Héen, or will we need modifications to be made by ship staff?” Her eyes were alight, as their Captain leaned back in her chair. “Standing CAP, be it barrier or what-ever under the direction of Ops, perhaps?”

“We should be able to keep two flights up continuously, of just fighters, keeping the bombers reserved for a strike,” Elia replied at what she felt was her cue. “Maybe deploy in four elements of two, with the two elements in the predicted threat directions reinforced by runabouts? But only for Condition Two or above -- the objective is early warning of hostile action in a situation where we _are_ anticipating it, after all. Can you handle that, Ms. Héen?”

“Yeah, we can manage that tempo for a week at stations, if necessary, from the logistics side.” She looked to Lar’shan for confirmation.

The Dilgar pilot nodded. “I confess, not only do I approve, but I felt our fighter wing was underutilized in typical Alliance tactics. A standing CAP is a much better option for avoiding surprises and guaranteeing fighter support to any contingency and we should be able to push out several light minutes while still being fully supported.”

“Let us work on that. What else do you have to add, Lar’shan? We have a bomber wing, but finding tactics for using it seems to be incredibly difficult in the database. Anyone else have something? Not just the air-wing, any aspect of our operations. One brain is far outmatched by many.”

“Let there be a signal to the Chiefs about discretion in manning at Condition One. We can have ready service rations distributed as part of Condition Two preparations and emergency ration lockers can be marked as such and re-stocked from the replicators if it is necessary to go directly to Condition One,” Anna replied. “So, if there is a situation at Condition One which merits allowing small rotations of crew to get food or rest, shouldn’t that be up to the Chief of the Section?”

“I can trust the Chief’s mess to do that, yeah,” Rick Dugan finally spoke, brown eyes over mustache as he faced the officers, in fact with all the confidence of a veteran NCO. Zhen’var’s bosun on the old _Huáscar_ had been one of her most important loyalists for the new. “Guys get a feel for the tempo of an op pretty fast and know when to do little tasks, when to slow down -- to help we can use all these fancy displays to broadcast ship situation reports, right?”

“Do we trust everyone with those?” Arterus asked.

“Hell, if we’re boned, you don’t need a report to figure that out,” Rick answered. “It’s more about, say, we need repairs or urgent maintenance, we can swing it at stations if we know the system isn’t going to be called up during a fast switchover. The best can figure that out, but cues avoid errors. Same thing with maintenance of _people,_ naps all-standing and eating might make sense for different posts in the ship at different times. Yeah, it’s a good idea.”

“A _great_ idea.” Zhen’var’s smile was getting a bit _dangerous_. Rick had brought it to a place she had worried would take longer than this to develop. “It brings up the other reason for this meeting, one I have discussed with Will. As I have said previously, I do not have a strong background in the operation of Multiversal technology, as many of _you_ do. That ignorance could be dangerous, or even fatal. How do we deal with it?”

Daria flexed her ears and blinked. She had felt like she had screwed up with sensor reports from tactical--precisely because they were a responsibility of ops or science from her past understanding--and had been dressed down for it. This was a new event in its openness and frankness. Still, she tried to make it count. “If you don’t know how the technology works -- you may misapply it -- so that the person using the technology may understand the order doesn’t match the capability?”

“They may. They should, perhaps, one may even say. Given the need for quick obedience of orders under military discipline… perhaps I should stop giving them? The best thing for an ignorant woman to do is to stop talking, after all.” She said it with a cheshire grin on her face, which given the content of her speech, was _strange_.

“Cap-?” Arterus, raised in the Romulan Star Empire, felt something like the universe had become minorly unhinged. He was perceptive, though, and saw that Abebech Imra was _also_ grinning at this point. He abruptly had the feeling he was going to learn something very important.

“I know what I _want_ to do, but not how to do it. If I give you an order to “Plot a course to this system, maximum warp”, that is what you will do. An example of _intent_ , Mister tr'Rllaillieu, would be ‘I wish to reach this system as quickly as possible, there is a plague which we must deliver our doctor to fight’. You know it is possible to use the IU drive to increase speed. You know my intent and the reasons behind it, you can thus use your skill to get us there faster, in keeping with my _intent_ , whereas my _order_ would have slowed us.” Her eyes flicked across the room. “I am going to cease giving all orders except for those involving initial weapons release. The decision to take life when necessary is _my_ moral responsibility as Captain, I shall not force any of you to bear it.”

“This will be difficult to push down to a lower level. I admit that I have tended to give _very_ precise orders on the _Heermann,_ ” Abebech began. “It is against nature, _especially,_ ” she glanced to Arterus, but then also Fei’nur, “to someone coming from a system which strongly selected against it. That includes myself, I might add. But consider the great benefit of this challenge. She’s absolutely right--a dozen brains are better than one, a hundred better than a dozen, and a thousand better than a hundred. It’s also especially true that it’s going to empower our Chiefs, and they’re an underutilized asset in the Alliance Navy with real talent and skill. As your comrade, hold me accountable, please, in making a sincere effort to follow this example.”

Fei’nur looked horrified. “But Ca… Zhen’var, it’s… how are we going to keep _order_ on the lower decks! As quickly as we knock over one still, they’ve built another!”

“Teach them the _consequences,_ ” Will said, his eyes sharp. “Show them what the drinking does to their ability to support their comrades in an immediate crisis. Make them decide being productive sailors is more important than their rot-gut.”

“I think holodeck simulations are going to be an important teaching tool…” Zhen’var’s eyes were bright as she looked about the room. “We are going to be introducing _mindful action_ as a concept as well. Related to what we have been discussing. You will point, and you will vocalize an action, or what you are checking or observing. Rick, you had a leave in Tokyo, I think, where you would have seen this in action?”

“Yeah, I did. They called it Point-and-Call. In fact, I’ve got a CPO--Nishimura--who worked for Japan Railways in one of those other universes and actually knows the system. We’re gonna use it, aren’t we?”

“Dilgar will not think it beneath them, and we have a mostly green crew who are learning how everything works. They can _try_ to make the same number of mistakes as any other crew, but catch them, either themselves, or by others at their stations, or so I would think?”

Fei’nur looked half like she wanted to ask Nah’dur if Zhen’var had been struck in the head recently.

Nah’dur looked to her, and then to Zhen’var. “I believe it meets principles of neurology applicable to most of the crew. The learning curve will be hard, the results worthwhile.”

“We’re going to be a team implementing this. And an example,” Elia clasped her gloved hands together. “We’re going to show how systems of redundancy also _empower_ because they provide a control _other_ than the responsibility of a single person giving an order.”

Zhen’var felt that made a very nice coda. They would even have the time to implement it in a relatively low-risk sector, since their orders were taking them to a region of space in S4W8 which had been liberated from the Nazi Reich and was filled with non-Germanic ethnic groups. Support for humanitarian relief and nation-building efforts would be the perfect time to get the system down.


End file.
